


Nobody Dies a Virgin

by kittenmittens



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (down the line anyway), Also he has a pregnancy kink so u know, Cis Mpreg with an attempted decent justification, Feminization, Keishin gets kinda screwed over oop, M/M, Male Lactation, Mpreg, Pregnant Sex, Surgical Procedures, Takeda's bi and hella into Ukai, Top Takeda Ittetsu, Ukai's gay and in denial, bottom ukai, in any way shape or form lol, male breasts, mood, more tags to be added later maybeeee, non-consensual surgical procedures, not abo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:07:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24992806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenmittens/pseuds/kittenmittens
Summary: An accidental surgery turns Ukai into an unwilling medical marvel. He's just trying to get through life like everything's normal, but a certain smitten faculty advisor is about to make that pretty damn difficult.
Relationships: Takeda Ittetsu/Ukai Keishin
Comments: 23
Kudos: 59





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo I was kinda stoked when I first got into Haikyuu because I swear this fandom has more mpreg than I've ever seen in any other fandom.... buuuuuut ABO just isn't my thing, and that's what most (all?) of it seems to be. I've seen a lot of ABO mpreg, bottom Takeda Ittetsu, and a preference for writing in the style of the sub rather than the dub. So, clearly I am currently posting a fic nobody in the Haikyuu fandom wants, because it has the opposite of all of those things lol. But that's okay! I'm posting it for myself, and in the ever so slight chance that someone out there might realize this fic is for them, too.
> 
> anyway, I am by no means a medical expert, but I'm a sucker for cis mpreg, so I opted to attempt to justify it/explain it in a semi believable way? I hope?? I tried to find the median between "logical" and not overexplain to the point where my lack of knowledge becomes glaring. Hopefully I found that middle ground??? Also I love the dub; I previously mentioned this, ie I know not everyone does but yeah this is gonna follow the cadence of the dub and if you find that or anything else about this fic UNBEARABLE just feel free to scoot. No judgement here, but yeah. That's it! Thanks.

“Could you…” Keishin’s hands don’t know what to do with themselves. Normally, he’d have a cigarette lit by now, and that would’ve helped with the nerves some, but he doubts he can smoke in here. “I’m sorry—could you run that by me _one more time?”_ Up until now, Keishin’s never understood what the hell people mean when they say they’re so shocked they feel like they’re dreaming. Well, turns out, all this time, he just wasn’t thinking of it in the right context. It’s not some surreal, out-of-body experience (okay, sure, maybe a little _,_ but); mostly, he just really, really wishes he was dreaming.

“Uh. Sure.” The kid’s clearly exasperated, since this is the second time Keishin’s asking him to go through the whole story, but it’s clear he knows he’s got no right to get pissy with Keishin. Not after what he—er, his _company—_ apparently just did to him. “I’m from, uh, a firm that represents Hiyokudo Labs. They’re a foundation that specializes in biological sciences and human fertility. A, um—A few years ago, they offered a high amount of compensation to any willing test subject for a procedure where they…” He does this massive, cartoony gulp, mumbles something, and Keishin holds in a groan. “A-Anyway, because of the medical risks, there were very few volunteers. And due to the cost of the experiment itself, not to mention any potential additional compensation to the test subject, only one individual was asked to participate. Hiyokudo was outsourcing the surgery itself to this hospital, and it was scheduled to happen, er… today _._ And it seems that the subject who originally volunteered, became…” The kid sucks in this huge breath, then he freezes, then he just… deflates. “U-Uh, well, he… got cold feet. And, probably noticing how the two of you happened to have the same last name, and looked somewhat similar, he… switched out your information for his before fleeing the hospital.”

“Give me the short version.” Because he can’t be saying what Keishin thinks he is. Right? This guy’s only mentioning all the batshit crazy ‘male uterus’ stuff because he can’t really believe it himself. Could be that the only reason the kid’s _really_ here is to tell Keishin that they couldn’t take his appendix out because of the mixup, or the police are gonna wanna question him about this runaway test subject. Right?

“O-Okay.” This guy clears his throat and tries again, still acting like Keishin’s a thug with a knife to his throat instead of a sick man in a hospital bed about to get what he’s starting to think is some _real_ shitty news. “It seems that the organ was accidentally implanted in… you. And due to the nature of tissue rejection in transplanted organs, and the risk of another surgery soon after the first, and because the, um… Th-The organ donor has threatened to sue if she—and, uhh, these are her words, not mine—‘ _had her uterus ripped out for no goddamn reason’—_ our client would like to strongly suggest that you consider participating in the experiment yourself.”

Keishin just stares him down for a minute, watching his scrawny Adam’s apple bob, then leans back against his pillow and crosses his arms. “… I’m gonna need a minute.”

“Of course!” Almost tripping over himself to get out of the room, the kid nods like a bobblehead. “Of course. I’ll just—E-Excuse me.”

“Hmph.” Keishin nods, closing his eyes and waiting til he’s sure the room’s completely empty before he peels one eye open to confirm it. He holds totally still for a second, arms still crossed, heart starting to pound, then he swears and throws himself out of the bed. He scrambles, barefoot, into the bathroom, flicking on the light and leaning towards the mirror. His reflection’s a little pale, kind of sick looking, but otherwise pretty normal. But his hands are shaking as he steps back enough to see his whole torso, grabbing the bottom of the ugly hospital gown and lifting it slowly. He sees a flash of red and drops the gown. Then gritting his jaw, he grabs it again with both hands and yanks it all the way up to his chest.

There, just under his navel, is a scar. A stitched-up, curved, angry looking line under his belly button. It’s actually pretty small. Might not have even noticed it otherwise. But seeing it with his own eyes is when he finally gets it.

Same as how most people get knocked up, Keishin’s been completely screwed _._

* * *

He really did try to cover all his bases. He grilled that lab tech ‘til he was on the verge of a panic attack, asking him about lawyers, about figures, about what the hell every single one his options were. Turns out surgical mix-ups are a hell of a lot more common than he would’ve thought, and, yeah, he _could_ sue for malpractice. But never mind how much it would cost to get a lawyer, or how much he’d win if they took his side; as far as _Hiyokudo Labs_ is concerned, he’s just come into possession of their property, and surgery to remove it would count as destruction of property. And, if he tries to just… live with it in there without letting them use him as a guinea pig, that’d mean all the money they put into this, a decade of research, yadda, yadda—all of that’s gonna go down the drain, and it’ll all be Keishin’s fault. Allegedly _._ When Keishin asked how much they could nail him for that _,_ he had to stop the kid after his pen kept scribbling and scribbling, adding more and more _zeroes_ to the end of that hypothetical number. He’d have to sue about ten more hospitals just to break even.

Speaking of hospitals, they keep him in this one for another few days, and Keishin thinks they might really try and lock him up in their Frankenstein labs before another legal practice kid—just as scrawny and nervous as the other one—drops in to explain that, nope, they’re just monitoring him for organ rejection. So, apparently _,_ they put the thing in by itself, then made sure his body wasn’t going to throw a fit about it, then give him a bunch of drugs so the damn thing’ll start getting itself ready for them to… Y’know, put the rest in. The... kid. _Fuck._ Makes Keishin want to pass out just thinking about it.

“It’s actually really fortunate that you happened to have the same blood type as the organ donor!,” he says, and Keishin wants to bash his head against the wall.

Yeah. Sure, kid. _Lucky._

“Just how long am I gonna have to do this for?” Keishin knows he’s stuck like this for now, but can’t they, like… transfer it later on? To somebody who’s a better fit, or more, y’know— _willing?_ Of course, Keishin’s pretty sure he already knows what the answer is, but he figures if he keeps asking, maybe, just maybe, somebody in the chain of command’ll get so sick of him that they’ll just cave and let him bail.

“Er… ” The kid acts like Keishin just drop-kicked him in the stomach. See, it’s not like Keishin’s trying to give a bunch of law firm interns meltdowns, he’s just very pro ‘not getting screwed over by a bunch of mad scientists’. “For… as long as possible? Sorry, I thought that was clear.”

“What about…” Huh. Keishin want to think too far ahead last time (made it seem way too real, y’know?) but now that the guy says that, Keishin can’t really ignore this one thing that’s been bugging him. “Let’s say this… goes on for a while.” As in, Keishin really _is_ stuck like this. “What about after it’s…” His whole face screws up and he shudders. “B… born? Are you expecting me to… _take it?”_

“Take… ?” He must’ve phrased that weird, since the kid looks stumped, but he figures it out quick enough. “Oh! Um… The organ donor expressed no interest in raising the child—she actually stressed that this was what made her so willing to donate to the project in the first place—and I’m unsure about the sperm or egg donors. But, uh—I’m certain _Hiyokudo Labs_ would be more than happy to look into potential adoptees, especially after all the work you’ll be putting in.”

God, the way he says that just makes Keishin’s skin crawl. “Hm. Least they can do, huh?”

“Um.” With a stressed-out grin, the kid shrugs. Maybe he wants to agree out loud, ‘cause he feels bad for Keishin, but he’s obviously so paranoid of getting fired that he can’t even let himself fake it. “I’d better—I actually have to get going.”

A half hour after the kid scurries out of his room, the nurse comes by and tells Keishin he can start getting his things, because he’s about to be discharged. But not before he gets a crapload of pills to take with him, and real strict instructions about when and how to take them before he comes back in three weeks for them to actually do it. Actually… stick the thing … in there. 

And Keishin gets the hell out of dodge, sure, but for those three weeks, he might as well’ve stayed in that stupid hospital bed. He thinks about skimping on the pills, he thinks about trying to find somebody he can pay under the table to undo what they did, he even thinks about—no, really, he _seriously_ thinks about skipping out of the country and going on the lam or something. He’s pretty sure this stupid lab company can’t afford to send a friggin’ mercenary after him and drag him back to Japan if he does.

But, the thing is, he’s too much of a goddamn coward to do any of it. Too scared he’ll screw up the rest of his organs, or get himself killed in some back alley somewhere, or leave his mom with way too much stress trying to keep the store up and running all on her own. He’s too scared of getting sued, of losing the house, putting his folks on the street because of this stupid, insane crap that he got dragged into—honestly, it oughta be the punchline for a joke, but that’s just Keishin’s life—to not go back when those three weeks are up.

* * *

They really did it.

Stuck this creepy-ass, giant needle in him, waited another two weeks, then brought him back in and confirmed it.

Whatever they did to him _worked_ , and now he’s…

Shit. He can’t even think it.

For the last week, he’s been poking at the scar through his shirt, trying to work out how, exactly, he’s gonna survive this without his body getting totally screwed _._ Or all his guts spilling out. He got so distracted at one point that Manbun socked him in the head with a bad receive. Then he looked ready to cry when Keishin chewed him out, so that made him feel like shit. Well, shittier _._

Hell—Keishin knew he wasn’t being subtle or anything, but he was kinda hoping it’d fly under everybody’s radar. No such luck with Specs, though. Little guy keeps saying crap like, “You know, even if it’s a personal problem, you can always talk to me, coach!”, and offering to take him out drinking. (Honestly, having to turn that down hurt more than anything else that’s happened to him.)

The worst part is—okay, _no_. Nowhere near the worst part, but the part that pisses him off the most is that Keishin wouldn’t have minded having a kid—well, down the road, anyway. Waaaaay down the road. Preferably when he’s not dealing with a whole army of volleyball gremlins, but… y’know! Eventually. Maybe.

But for fuck’s sake! He would’ve done it the old fashioned way. Or, if that wasn’t an option, he would’ve adopted. What kinda maniac would _choose_ to do something like this to himself? Keishin’s got a pretty good idea of why the first guy bailed. Even without all the mad science bullshit, kids are a huge commitment! The biggest thing Keishin’s done with his life in the past few years is coach. Manning the store kinda fell into his lap, and he can barely handle that, and coaching, _and_ picking soybeans in one day. Makes him real glad they’re gonna take the kid off his hands when all this is over with. (Not that Kieshin’s giving up! Hell no _._ If there’s a way to make this anybody else’s problem, Keishin’s gonna figure it out if it kills him.)

“Uh. Coach?”

“In a minute, Specs.” Look—call Keishin an asshole, but he feels like this whole coaching gig ain’t as important as trying to figure some way out of this mess. So what if he’s checked out for a week or two? He’d rather they flub a few practice games than picture how things are gonna be looking for him a few months down the line if he can’t get out of this. Or how _he’s_ gonna look a few months down the line... Eugh _._

“It’s just that—“ Man, Specs really reminds him of a kid when he gets like this. One of those super polite preschoolers who’ve got great manners, and they feel like they’re gonna get in trouble if they ask you to pee, but they make it _real_ obvious that they’ve gotta go with how bad they’re squirming. And he’s so lost in that mental image (plus, trying to figure out why the hell his brain wants to torture him, since it keeps going back to the word ‘kid’) that he doesn’t figure out what Specs was trying to tell him til _after_ the volleyball clocks him in the nose.

“SUNUVA--!” Keishin grabs his face and bends over, but he knows exactly who hit him when Ginger starts begging for mercy.

“Y-Yeah.” Specs laughs when Keishin finally pulls his hands away, wiping a thumb under his nose to make sure that, yup, even though he smells blood, he’s not gonna start gushing like a fire hose or anything. “I was just about to warn you: Hinata’s serving.”

“I figured.” Keishin straightens up, turning to look over at Ginger, who jolts like somebody stuck him with a cattle prod and, for some dumbass reason, salutes him. 

“So, uh—coach! I was actually going to ask this earlier, but…” Specs clears his throat, puffing up like he’s _really_ gotta ease into the question. “Are you… alright? You seem, um…” Keishin hears him swallow, and he looks away. “Distracted.”

“Yeah, I, uh—“ Shit _._ It’s not like Keishin can tell him! Hell, it’s not like he wants to. And why should he? He’s not giving up on his freedom yet! Women have… y-y’know, certain _rights_ in situations like this, so why the hell can’t Keishin? He’s gonna get out of this weird, legal loophole, and with any luck, in a few months Keishin and a few of those company weirdos will be the only people who knew this shit ever happened. “I got some kinda… weird news from the doctor. That’s all.”

“Oh.” Specs looks like somebody kicked a kitten right in front of him. “Nothing too serious, I hope!”

“Wha—no! No. Nothing like that.” Well, it’s not a total lie, right? Keishin’s pretty sure this isn’t gonna kill him. Unfortunately.

“That’s great to hear!” Specs grins from ear to ear, and Keishin wouldn’t be too surprised if he started bouncing on his toes, too. “I don’t know what Karasuno would do without you. A-Actually, that’s a lie. I know exactly what they’d do, and it’s… not very good.”

Keishin snorts. “Lucky for you, you’re not gettin’ rid of me that easily.” ‘Course, right after he says that, he gets this weird twist in the pit of his stomach.

Huh. _That’s_ probably not good.

* * *

Keishin hates to admit it, but by the time they call him in for “follow up”, he’s got nothing. He doesn’t want to say that he’s giving up, but it’s getting kinda hard to pretend that he’s still fighting it. Still. Can’t hurt to ask, right?

“Don’t suppose you guys changed your mind about all this?”

“’You guys?’” The doctor looks real confused for a second, but then he gets it. Great! That’s a mood booster, when the guy who’s supposed to make sure you don’t croak turns out to be a total airhead. “Oh, right! Uh, no. Hiyokudo wants things to continue as planned. They’ve scheduled visits for you every two weeks for the next eight and a half months, some of which their staff will be overseeing.” Oh, so now they’re taking away his privacy, too. This crap isn’t even surprising him anymore. “But, um—some good news! The hospital’s offered to cover any additional costs for appointments and prescriptions so you don’t, uh—you know! Sue _them_ for malpractice.” He laughs after he says that, but crazy enough, Keishin doesn’t find it all that funny. The doc claps his hands together, like he doesn’t notice Keishin glaring at him, and grins like a complete dope. “Alright. You ready to get started?”

“Sure, sure.” Keishin leans back when the guy tells him to, rolling his shirt up over his stomach and staring at the ceiling.

“Wow!” The doc pushes his fingers up against his abs, and Keishin sucks in a bunch of air, but it doesn’t hurt as bad as he was figuring it would. “Looks like you’re healing really well.”

“… Thanks.” Keishin’s not sure why he says that; maybe it’s a ‘thanks for telling me I’m not gonna start rotting from the inside’. 

“Sit up and I’ll check your vitals.” Keishin does, rolling up his hoodie sleeve so the guy can put that blood pressure cuff around his arm, then bending forward and letting him stick his stethoscope on his chest. “Breathe? Good…” He moves his hand around to a few different places, then pulls his arm out of Keishin’s shirt. “Okay. Looks like your vitals are good. Any family history of heart disease?”

“Nah.” See, if he keeps asking Keishin stuff like this, he can almost pretend this is just a normal check-up. 

“High blood pressure?”

When he says that, Keishin can just _hear_ his mom’s voice nagging at him: ‘ _If you don’t cut that coaching crap out, you’ll end up just like your grandfather! You get too worked up over volleyball, and you know it.’_ “Nope.”

“Smoke?”

Wait— _shit._ “Uh—“

“You’re gonna have to cut that out.” The guy’s smile is gone, and Keishin could swear it just got ten degrees colder in here from the look on the doc’s face alone. “Immediately. No coffee,” His eyes dart over to Keishin’s hair. “or bleaching your hair. And _absolutely_ no alcohol.”

“Yeah, I’ll… “ Prying a finger under his headband, Keishin scratches his scalp and tries not to act too much like a kid somebody just told off. “I’ll do my best.” Quit smoking?! Is he freakin’ serious? That’s the one thing Keishin’s _got_ in this craphole of a town! There’s coaching, games with the neighborhood guys, nights at the bar when somebody else picks up the tab, and _smokes._ Does he want Keishin to go insane? That shit can’t be healthy for anybody, Keishin’ll say that much.

“Good.” Just like that, it might as well have never happened. Guy’s smiling like a moron again, and he pries a few receipt-looking things out from under his clipboard and hands ‘em to Keishin. “Here.” The doc just starts rattling ‘em off like he’s giving Keishin his lunch order. _“_ You’re getting switched from pills to hormone injections, along with regular prenatal vitamins, and you’ll continue on the immunosuppressant medication to prevent the risk of rejection… And there might be an additional prescription or two depending on how your bloodwork comes back.” He shoots Keishin a grin, like he expects him to smile, too, or something. “But you seem very healthy, so I wouldn’t worry too much about that.”

Not worry about it? Now that’s a fuckin’ laugh. “Great.” Groaning, Keishin grabs his forehead and starts squeezing his temples—he can already tell he’s working on a headache. He drops his hand and leans forward, giving the doc a ‘c’mere’ gesture. “Listen, man. Between the two of us, are you _sure_ there’s no way I can just…” He shrugs—ahh, screw it. He’ll just come out and say it. “Get this thing taken out?”

The doc freezes, and from his face, Keishin honestly thinks the guy feels bad for him. Can’t blame him for that—Keishin’d feel pretty goddamn horrible for any guy unlucky enough to get himself into this crap, too. “Even in your run-of-the-mill organ transplants, taking an organ out of a person whose body seems to be responding to it well, right after they’ve had another majorly invasive surgery, is an unnecessary risk, and it’s… doubtful you’re going to find a doctor who’d want to perform that operation unless your life is in danger.” Reaching out, the guy pats Keishin’s shoulder, and Keishin’s gotta tell himself not to jerk away. “Believe it or not, it’s probably safer to leave it inside, and if it ever does become life-threatening, it could be removed.” He obviously thinks the disappointed look on Keishin’s face is actually him being afraid, ‘cause he hurries up and adds, “B-But that won’t happen! Hiyokudo has put a ton of research and effort into making this as safe as it can possibly be. I’m sorry the hospital made such a big mistake, though. I know it… wasn’t really intentional, on your part.” Yeah. No shit _,_ buddy. “But look at the bright side! Hiyokudo is putting all their research towards advancements that will help transgender people and women who struggle with infertility, not to mention the fact that you’ll be making medical history, so you’re really being a huge help!”

“Yep.” Keishin groans and leans back. Okay, so that’s—y’know, that’s good, for them, but why the hell does Keishin have to be a part of that, huh? He’s pretty sure his brain isn’t even letting everything sink in all the way, otherwise he would’ve had the mother of all meltdowns by now. (Ugh. For some reason that word sends a friggin’ chill down his spine.)

“Well, at least we’re basically done.” Huh. Guess he finally learned how to read the room. “Just, uh—“ He pries some more stuff off his clipboard and hands Keishin a couple of stapled-together packets. Oh, _awesome_. Now he’s got homework. “Just _please_ read these pamphlets on the immunosuppressants and organ transplant aftercare. You’ve been doing great so far, you’re recovering really nicely, but it can never hurt!” God, he reminds Keishin of Specs when he acts like that. Like—not really a word he normally uses on guys, but _bubbly._ “Oh, and you might want to pick up a few pregnancy books. Just for a little down the road.”

“Gck _!”_ Keishin jolts, face getting all pink, and suddenly he feels sick to his stomach. He can barely get the word through his clenched teeth when he grunts, “ _Right_.”

The doc lets him through the door and points out the way back to the waiting room, and Keishin almost wants to toss the stupid packets in the trash. He wants to think he’s still gonna do something about this, and show _Hiyakadu_ or whatever can’t make him their lab rat, but Keishin’s got the sense that window more or closed a while ago now. Plus, he’s got that burning feeling in the pit of his gut—the same one he felt after that talk he had with Takeda—and for some stupid reason, he just can’t do it.

So he stuffs the packets into his pocket instead, knowing damn well that this is just the first step up a whole friggin’ mountain of bullshit.


	2. Chapter 2

Alright, so Keishin didn’t throw away the friggin’ pamphlets. Much as he’d like to be the kind of guy who doesn’t stress over stupid crap, every once in a while there’s something that gets under his skin enough to freak him out a little. And right now, that ‘stuff’ is thinking about all his other organs failing, or getting rejected, or whatever the hell might happen if he doesn’t take the pills they gave him. But that’s about as far as he lets it get. He’s taking the pills, and he kept all the notes they gave him, but he didn’t, like... _read_ ‘em. Not because he’s some kind of irresponsible asshole or anything, but he’s busy! He’s still getting up at _four AM_ three days a week to pick soybeans, even though the shop’s always slow once they get headed towards winter. Not to mention the spring prelims are just around the corner, and Keishin’s gotta drill it into those shitheads that they can’t afford to slack off just ‘cause the holidays are coming up.

Look—it doesn’t matter, right? Keishin knows what the whole deal is with the pills. It’s the same idea as those people with the immune stuff, where they get sick real easy. That’s basically it. If somebody’s got a cold, Keishin’ll _definitely_ get it. And considering there’s nothing on this planet grosser than a bunch of teenage boys, he might be screwed. But, on the other hand, they’re not worth jack shit to the rest of the team if they’re sick, so Keishin figures they probably won’t even come in. Hell, when Keishin was that age, he _loved_ having a good reason to play hooky! And, sure, that’s not the best thing to hear, coming from a coach, but— _damn it,_ he’s not here to be a role model! His only job is to tell these screwballs how to hit the ball good.

And, yeah, Yamaguchi was dripping snot like a leaky faucet the other day, but that’s just allergies! Besides, he’s on the bench, and Keishin barely gets any one-on-one time with the kid, so who cares. And that’s exactly how Keishin’s been thinking. Right up until now, when it’s hitting him just how much he feels like he wants to keel over and die.

“Damn it, Yamaguchi…” Crap. Feels like his head’s about to explode! And Specs won’t stop telling him how he looks like shit. (Well, he said, ‘You don’t look so good’, but they both know that’s what he _meant_.)

“Still feeling under the weather?” Specs shoves a water bottle into his hand, and Keishin takes it, unscrewing the top and trying to act like the ultra-filtered mineral crap doesn’t sting the hell out of his throat.

“I’m fine.” The other thing is, for all Keishin knows, this could just be withdrawal! He’s had the shakes from that before, the last time he tried to quit smoking, and he felt pretty shitty then, too.

“Yeah. Okay.” Specs doesn’t sound convinced, but Keishin’s not gonna go home yet, if that’s what he’s worried about. He could coach in the middle of a hurricane if he had to, so what’s a little head fog and chills?

“Hey! Tsukkishima!” Beanpole keeps jerking his hands back every time Kageyama’s block gets close to him. Great! He’s so scared of catching cooties, he’s creating an opening the size of Mt. Fuji every time the two of them jump. “Start taking this seriously, wouldja?” He should’ve figured Tsukkishima wasn’t gonna stop treating Kageyama and Hinata like they have the plague overnight, but he really thought they were making some headway for a while. Still, it’s gonna be a long practice if the kid doesn’t pull his head out of his ass and start trying to make some decent spikes. “Here. Buzzcut!” He gives Tanaka a grabby gesture, and catches the ball that gets tossed towards him. “Look, I’ll show you. If you’re blocking like that, you’re gonna…” He screws his eyes shut, freezing up. Just for a second. His vision got sorta weird, that’s all, but it’s back to normal when he shakes his head a couple times. “Do that again.” He steps back when Kageyama and Tsukishima move into position, taking over for Freckles as he gets ready to send the ball over the Beanpole’s fingers. See, this’d probably work better if he had a stepstool or something, but he doesn’t need the extra shot to his pride, and he can make do anyway.

The next bit seems to happen in slow motion. He throws the ball up, and he goes to hit it, and, next thing he knows, he’s almost a hundred percent sure he’s gonna hurl. Then, his ears start ringing, and the sound gets all muffled, and he feels like he’s looking at things from far away, or through one of those high-beam interrogation lights.

Last clear thought he _really_ has is that he should probably sit down, and that’s about when he passes out cold.

* * *

Keishin’s getting pretty sick of waking up in the hospital. It’s never a fun thing for anybody, but Keishin’s starting to think he’s ending up in here so much through some kinda bad karma. Or maybe somebody he pissed off put some weird-ass, non-fatal hit out on him. The whole time the nurse, the doctors, and a few of those lab tech people are going off at him, all he can think about is who the hell he might’ve screwed over enough to land him in here.

When they’re done giving him the third degree, and after they check to make sure he and their little science experiment are doing okay, they make sure to go over those pamphlets with him _in person_. They go down on the dosage for the immune system pills just a tiny bit (since, apparently, Keishin can’t be trusted to handle ‘em at full strength), and they give him about fifty checkups. The whole time, all Keishin can think about is how bad he wants a cigarette, or just one teeny, tiny liiiiiittle sip of beer.

He had to call his mom, too. And Keishin can’t really fake like he’s got some other crap going on the way he did the last few times. He feels like a Grade-A jackass when he won’t even tell her what they’ve got him in here for, but come _on!_ What the hell is he _supposed_ to say? He’ll either sound like a nutjob, or she’ll pass out on the spot. Who wants to do that to their mom? Anyway, he’s pretty sure nobody’s gonna tell her what’s up without his say so, which means it should be okay. Doesn’t really matter, though—no way in hell Keishin’s gonna be able to keep this under wraps if things keep going the way they are now. But the way he sees it, he won’t tell her unless she asks him first. And he’s still hoping it’s never gonna get to that point.

She comes in and gives him an earful on the first day, and the hospital lets other types of visitors in after that. One only reason Keishin knows that is ‘cause Specs comes over to see him around dinnertime.

“Holy _sh—_ Specs!?” Look, Keishin’s flattered the guy likes him enough to come see him and all, but he wasn’t exactly prepared to deal with half the team today. The one nice thing about being stuck here is he gets a break from all those raging hormones, and he’s kinda missing that when Buzzcut barrels in after Specs and grabs the bed frame.

“Coach! Did you drink too much or somethin’?”

Keishin’s jaw almost pops off the rest of his face, and when he’s done trying to get his tongue to work, he barks, “THE HELL KIND OF GUY DO YOU THINK I AM!?” _Christ._ Sure, he’s talked about getting drinks before during practice, but so does everybody! Keishin’s not some kinda monster just ‘cause he likes to make sure his fridge is stocked up. “I like beer. _Like_ it. I’m not a friggin’ alcoholic.”

“The rest of the team was pretty concerned, so the captain and I promised to join the club advisor in coming here to make sure you were alright.” Kiyoko steps in behind Specs, with Yachi hunched behind her like a kindergartener on her first tour of the school.

“W-We—I mean—I hope that’s okay, coach! Sir!” Yachi lets go of Kiyoko and bows at him, for… some reason.

“Glad to see you’re up and at ‘em.” Daichi’s the last to squeeze through the door, and he gives Keishin a once over. What, was he thinking Keishin was gonna be doing cartwheels or something? “Heh. Well— _sort of.”_

“H-Hey, he’s gonna be fine!” Specs starts sputtering, his hands jerking around like crazy ‘cause he’s already more flustered than the guy hooked up to the I.V. “They wouldn’t let us see him if it was anything _that_ serious.”

“Nah. Nothing like that. I just—“ Keishin shrugs, trying to figure out how he can bullshit what happened without making it out to be a complete lie. “I shouldn’t have come in on Thursday. That fever was a hell of a lot higher than I thought it was.” People pass out from having high fevers all the time! Keishin’s never been one of ‘em, since he’s not a wuss, but hell, this is less of a gut-punch than saying it’s because he got… _Shit._ ‘Knocked up.’

“Please take your time and be sure to fully recover.” Yeesh. He gets that Kiyoko’s trying to be supportive when she says crap like that, but would it kill her to _smile?_

“ _Man,_ Kiyoko. You’re worried enough about the team to come all the way across town, just to make sure coach is okay!” Tanaka stops shaking the bars on Keishin’s bed and starts making goo-goo eyes at her. “You’re so sensitive and considerate and kindhearted and _hot—“_

_“_ KNOCK IT OFF.” If Keishin has to listen to go on for one more second, he’s gonna start bashing his head against the wall. “Should’ve figured you didn’t come to see _me.”_ Come to think of it, Keishin was kinda wondering why they brought Tanaka at all. His best guess was that Specs was too much of a pushover to get him to leave.

One of the nurses—the really beefy one with the nose that looks like somebody let her smush her face against some glass for too long as a kid—sticks her head in. Honestly, with how tight a leash they’ve been keeping him on, he’s been wondering if the fricken’ lab people didn’t try and bribe the hospital. “Is… there a problem, Mr. Ukai?”

Keishin crosses his arms over his chest and leans back, giving her a ‘you can get lost now’ kinda look. “Nope.”

“… I see.” She gets this real snotty look on her face, but Keishin doesn’t figure out that she’s up to something ‘til she plays her trump card. “Well, you’re scheduled for an appointment with the GP in a few minutes, so…”

“Oh! Oh, gosh, I’m so sorry!” Specs grabs Tanaka and yanks him away from the bed, bobbing his head towards the old cow a bunch of times. “Are we getting in the way of something? I—we can leave!” Daichi and Kiyoko take the hint just fine, but Buzzcut has to get shoved out the door, and Yachi’s probably got some _thing_ with hospitals, ‘cause she’s gotten so tensed up she looks like her knees are gonna give out. Kiyoko’s gotta come back in and walk her out like some senile old woman.

“We look forward to having you back at practice, coach.” Daichi shakes his hand before he goes—he’s got manners, Keishin always liked that kid—and then waves as he heads out.

After that, it’s pretty quiet. Keishin hates how he’s getting kinda used to how things run around here, knowing what they’re gonna feed him depending on the day, and how the TVs only get so loud ‘cause they rig the volume, but at least they can’t keep him admitted forever. They probably would if they friggin’ could _,_ but Keishin’s still got _some_ rights. And, sure enough, they tell him they’re about to discharge him in a few days, but first they’ve gotta do this ‘procedure’. And as pissed off as Keishin is about more lab rat crap, he’s… not feeling too hot, honestly. Not since he got knocked out, anyway. But this is supposed to help with that; Keishin got the gist of it, and they’re basically giving him some of the cells of the donor to boost up his immune system. And, hey, normally Keishin might say ‘screw it’, now that he knows to watch out for it, catching another cold’ll be a freak accident. On the other hand, since he works with a bunch of braindead monkeys who think washing your hand is a foreign concept, probably can’t be too careful.

So they stick him with another IV, make sure he’s not about to have a bad reaction, do another check to make sure the surgery’s still good, along with the, uhh—the _other stuff._ It’s all fine, according to plan, _whatever._ Keishin’s not sure how he’s feeling, but all it means is that his body’s not trying to spit anything out, or attack it, or whatever. And after that, almost a week since he got in, Keishin starts to feel… pretty damn good. Almost back to normal. Hell, maybe even _better_ than normal. When they let him leave, he’s not light-headed, not about to pass out—and even though he’s about to start tearing his skin off on account of how bad he wants to smoke, he’s happy.

Probably ‘cause it’s a hell of a lot easier to distract himself when he’s out in the world. Running the store, coaching, waking up at the crack of dawn, dead on his feet so he can pick beans—it’s hard to think about any of the crap that may or may not be right around the corner. He’s too busy tearing his hair out over Shortstack and Buzzcut’s ‘world’s tallest spiker’ routine. (Tanaka puts Nishinoya on his shoulders, they steal Manbun’s jersey, and then try and block Ginger’s quick attack. Yeah—wasn’t funny the _first_ time, but this time they ripped part of the net.) But he forgets about it, y’know? Except for the twenty times a day when he’d friggin’ kill for a smoke, it doesn’t feel like anything’s changed.

He starts having these dreams where he’s sitting in front of the TV, watching old games, taking notes—half a can of beer by his knee. And he’ll go through the whole pack, and he can almost _taste_ it, even though he’s asleep. But there’s this one morning where he tastes it. Like, really, _really_ tastes it, and it’s so good, it’s everything his body’s been craving and more. And then he tastes it a little too much. Starts to get caught in the back of his throat like stomach bile…

Keishin jerks awake, sitting hunched over on his futon. His stomach’s burning, and his guts feel like they’re about to climb up through his mouth—what the hell did he _eat?_ For a second, he thinks he might be able to keep it down. He just breathes in through his nose, shaky and slow, and counts backwards from ten. He makes it to four before he has to scramble out of bed, down the hall, and into the bathroom. He does a crappy job of slamming the door, so it just bounces off the frame and opens up a crack instead of closing. But Keishin can’t really do jack shit while he’s sticking his face in the toilet so he can start throwing up everything he ate yesterday. It’s friggin’ _horrible._ He keeps going and going until there’s nothing left, and even then, his guts don’t get the memo, and they clench up, over and over, trying to force it until finally, _finally,_ he can feel ‘em calming down. Breathing as slow as he can, Keishin flops against the wall, forehead pressing into the tile which, thank God, is cold enough to feel kinda nice.

“Keishin—?” His mom pushes the door open a ways, sticks her head in, then gags and yanks it back out. “ _UGH!_ Were you out drinking again!?”

“NO, DAMN IT! I—“ Keishin can’t get that sentence all the way out; he ends up cutting it in half with another round of puking. Wiping his mouth, he pulls back and looks up to see his mom glaring at him. Yeah, sure, Keishin knows what she’s thinking, and why she’s thinking it, but… shit! Even if he can’t tell her what’s really going on, he’s not gonna let her think he’s a friggin’ alcoholic. “I…” Crap. There’s gotta be something, right? Keishin’s not a brainiac, but he’s good enough at making excuses on the fly. His brain’s twisting around almost as much as his stomach is right now, but somehow, he comes up with something before too long. “Look, I… didn’t want you to freak out, but the whole reason I passed out was ‘cause of the flu.” He feels like a piece of shit, lying to his mom like this, but what the hell is he _supposed_ to do? He can’t tell her he’s—he’s _knocked up!_ He’d sound like a friggin’ lunatic, and then she’d check him right back into the hospital. Well. A different kind of hospital. “They said it’s, uh… It’s a real bad strain. Guess I’m still having symptoms.”

His mom makes this sound like she doesn’t believe it, and shakes her head. But then she goes, “I told you to get your flu shot! _Especially_ since you’re working with kids.”

“ _Yeah,_ mom.” Keishin groans—great! Can’t even feel like he’s getting away with something when she’s getting on his case like that. “I remember.”

“Come downstairs and eat some real breakfast, alright?” She grabs a towel off the rack and throws it at him. “Girls don’t like boys who are all skin and bones.”

“ _Alright,_ mom.”

He scrubs at his face, listening to the sound of her footsteps going down the stairs—and then cringing when she shouts, “HURRY UP!”

“I’M COMING, DAMN IT!” With a growl, Keishin tosses the towel into the sink and flushes the toilet, only stopping to wash his hands real quick because he _knows_ his mom’s gonna give him the stink-eye if he doesn’t. He stopped looking for apartments a while ago, but he’s starting to think he should give it another shot. Yeah, sure—he’s not positive he’d make it out of bed to get to the bean farm half the time without his mom pounding his door down to make sure he’s awake, but he wouldn’t have to deal with this, either. Then again, he’d still be working at the store, and if he can’t get a place that’s close enough, _that’d_ be a whole different pain in the ass. He always ends up thinking the same way, anyway: sure, he could move out, but it’d just be trading old bullshit for new bullshit.

“Keishin.” His mom drops his food in front of him as soon as he sits down, and Keishin knows exactly what’s coming. He’s gotta psyche himself up for the hundredth ‘That friend from college called, and her daughter’s going to be visiting her next week’ talk, but it, uh… It doesn’t come. “You really scared me.”

Keishin gulps, halfway through stuffing rice in his face. “… Huh?”

“When you called me from the hospital, I was terrified.” She was cleaning the stovetop when he got down here, but her arms have stopped moving now. “When you didn’t come home, I was so sure you got into a car accident, or something horrible. And then you wouldn’t tell me all the details, even though I’m your _mother…”_

Keishin’s jaw clenches up and he goes back to staring at his breakfast. Damn it. _God,_ he wants to act like this is all somebody else’s fault. Those scientists, or the hospital, for doing this to him, but… fact is, Keishin did it to himself. This part, anyway. He was the one who tried to stick it to both of them by taking shitty care of himself, and that’s why he passed out. Because he’s an idiot. “Mom…”

“You’re our only child, and—and I _know_ , you’re an adult, you’re a grown man. You can take care of yourself.” She sniffs, then turns back to look at him, like she’s trying real hard to pretend she’s not as freaked out as Keishin knows she is. “I just want—I _need you_ to… to promise me that you’re going to be more careful.”

Keishin drops his hand on the table, chopsticks going kinda limp. He’s never been _scared_ of his mom—okay, well, yeah, sure, when he was six, maybe, because who isn’t?—but he’s definitely not too sure he can look her in the eyes right now. His chest is all tight, and he feels like shit for making her worry this much. “There’s, uh… There’s actually something…” He swallows again. Damn it, he _wants_ to tell her. Well, no, he doesn’t, because he’s gonna melt on the spot from his manhood and his pride getting blasted into nothing, but he doesn’t want her to stress out any more. Or, at least, maybe give her a head’s up about what’s coming. No—not coming, what—what _might_ be coming, y’know? Nothing’s a hundred percent right now. Keishin’s still not done trying to get out of it, even if it’s been like… what? Another month? Which makes it two, or… two and a half now? … God _—_! Okay, it doesn’t matter! None of that matters. Keishin’s just… not gonna tell her until he has to, and he doesn’t have to. Right now. He heaves this big sigh, then tries to act like he hasn’t been stringing her along for thirty seconds. “… You seriously think I’m dumb enough to let something like that happen again?” Groaning, he cuts her off when he sees the look on her face. “Come on! I’m not that stupid.”

“Yes, you _are.”_ His mom dumps a pan into the sink for emphasis, but then she comes over and grabs his head, tugging it towards her so she can give him a kiss on the forehead. “But I still don’t want to lose you.”

“I’m not _dying,_ damn it!” Ugh, really? He can feel his cheeks getting all hot. He hates when she pulls crap like this! Makes him feel like a little kid. Squirming out of her grip, he grabs his food and starts shoveling it down again, just so she doesn’t try and keep talking to him. Guess there’s one good thing about all this, though: the part where he hurled his guts out sucked, but Keishin hasn’t been this starved for his mom’s cooking in forever.

The other good news is, he doesn’t hurl for the rest of the day. This sick stuff only happens in the morning, right? And, sure enough, Keishin gets through his shift at Sakanoshita without another _incident,_ and he’s basically forgotten all about the morning he had by the time he’s up on a chair behind the net, trying to show Ginger how to branch out his blocks. The kid still can’t absorb information for crap, but Keishin likes to think it’ll get pounded in there if he repeats it enough.

“See, when you delay your jump, take that extra split second to see what the other team’s doing. That’s great, but—“ Keishin wrinkles his nose—what the hell? “ _GUH!_ What’s that smell!? Manbun take his socks off again?”

“That’s the cooking club, coach!” Ginger does a bunch of ‘directing traffic’ moves, which Keishin is gonna assume means they’re right outside the building. “They’re having an end-of-semester barbecue.”

“Barbecue?” No way! That smells like horse shit. Guess it kinda makes sense—wouldn’t join the cooking club if they already knew what they were doing, right? But there’s no way that’s a normal cookout. The smell’s stinking up the whole gym. “Well, somebody close the door! I don’t want it to start throwing you off your g— _RRP.”_ Keishin drops the ball, and clamps a hand over his mouth. Oh, _God._ What the hell? He was fine a second ago, but now his stomach’s trying to turn inside out. He’s not sure if he falls off the chair, or if he kicks when he jumps down, but either way, the next second the chair’s on the floor, and Keishin’s bolting for the locker room. There isn’t even time to think about making it to the bathroom, or back up to the lounge where Takeda lets him dump his gym bag: his brain’s on pure fight or flight, and right now, he’s just fighting to find a place where he can puke.

There’s already barf climbing up the back of his throat when he spots the closest trash can, and it feels like a hundred meter relay, getting over there before the rest of the junk he ate today makes a comeback. He crams his whole head in and spews everywhere, his middle clenching up hard enough to make the stupid scar hurt like a _bitch._ Then he pants, pants some more, slowly lifts his head out—

And ducks it back in the bin so he can puke some more. A little ways off, over the sound of his own _noises,_ Keishin can hear Specs and the kids talking, even if he can’t make out what they’re saying. Then somebody’s footsteps get louder, and the next thing Keishin knows, Nishinoya’s standing in the doorway. Keishin stares at him just over the brim of the trashcan, still panting, and Nishinoya stares right back. Then the kid turns to scream over his shoulder, “HEY! _COACH IS BLOWING CHUNKS IN THE LOCKER ROOM!”_

“I’M NOT _BLOWING CHUNKS,_ DAMN IT!” Keishin screams right back at the kid, and then kinda bites himself in the ass when he looks down, sees Buzzcut’s crusty old boxers, and goes back to blowing chunks. Swallowing, Keishin finally gets a good breath in, and then another, and starts to feel like the tank might be empty. Finally _._ Backing away from the trashcan, he wipes his face on his sleeve and snaps, “Not that it’s _any of your business,_ Shortstack.”

Yeah, yeah—he can see the rest of the team trying to get a peek at the show from behind Nishinoya, so Keishin makes himself stand up straight and walk back over to them. (Sure, he’d rather curl up in a ball and pass out, but you can’t show weakness in front of teenagers! They’re friggin’ _piranhas._ Even dumb ones, like Ginger.) They all just stare at him until Daichi jolts, Takeda prying an arm between him and Sugawara.

“Coach! Are you—?”

“ _Fine,_ Specs. I’m fine.” Specs squeezes his way through to the front stands there next to Shortstack, looking like a puppy you’re about to whap with a rolled up newspaper. Keishin rolls his eyes, working his jaw a couple times before he adds, “… Yeah, I know I’m makin’ that hard to believe, but I am.” It’s getting to be a real pain, coming up with all these cover stories, but like hell is Keishin gonna tell ‘em the truth. “Like I said—this flu’s been kicking my ass. And getting stuck in the hospital didn’t _magically_ make me all better.” Crossing his arms, Keishin raises his voice, and stands up even taller, no matter how much that makes his stomach act like it’s gonna shrivel up and die. “But if you think any of that means I’m gonna take it easy on you bunch of jackasses—“

Specs cuts him off with his hand raised. “Please don’t swear on school grounds, coach!”

Kieshin stops for a second, taking a minute to get the wind back in his sails after… that. “If you think that means I’m gonna take it easy on you… _buttholes—“_ Takeda gives him this shiny-eyed thumbs up and Keishin groans. “—you’ve got another thing coming.” Putting his hands on his hips, Keishin gives ‘em all a glare that’d make even old man Ikkei tremble and barks, “Got it!?” They all nod, even if Keishin’s sure half of these crap-for-brains don’t even know what’s going on right now. “And if you hear me puking in there—“ He jerks his arm over to point at the trashcan. “—MIND YOUR OWN DAMN BUSINESS!” He swings his arm around to point towards the net. “Now get back to practicing.”

“YES, SIR!” They all say that more or less together—well, Four-Eyes doesn’t say _anything,_ and Ginger does his salute, but the rest of ‘em are a little more receptive. As they clear off, Specs sticks around, then bends his head and motions for Keishin to come over.

Smirking, Keishin lets out a laugh as he ducks his head. “You’re not trying to sell me drugs, are you, Specs?”

“Whuh!?” Specs’ whole face goes neon red, and Keishin snorts. “N-No! No. I just—I was just going to tell you that…” Little guy clears his throat and stands up straight; must be pretty important, ‘cause he even grits his jaw for emphasis. “If something more serious is going on… W-Well, you can tell us!” Looks like that’s all she wrote, ‘cause Specs slumps and looks defeated right after he says that. “I know they’re not the most… _mature_ bunch, but they’ve still been through a lot. They’ve experienced so much loss and disappointment, all before you ever started coaching here! And I know I speak for all of us when I say: if you ever need any help, just ask.”

“Jeeze, Specs. That’s…” Well, Keishin’s not the kinda guy to call stuff ‘sweet’, but it’s—y’know, it’s nice. It’s a nice gesture and all that. Kinda makes his stomach start twisting up again, but less because he wants to hurl, and more because he feels like shit for lying to the little guy. Even though he’s not _lying_ , damn it! He’s just… not telling the truth! And this whole thing’s complicated, alright? He’s just gonna leave it at that. “I appreciate it. But I’m telling you, it’s no big deal! I’m fine. Everything’s _fine.”_ Keishin gets this funny pinch in his chest when he says that, like he’s lying through his teeth, but he’s just gonna ignore that.

Besides, he’s basically right! The rest of practice goes by fine. Keishin almost forgets about the trashcan incident until Tanaka starts trying to guess what he had for lunch by the time they’re all packing up. Anyway, he gets back to Sakanoshita in time to start restocking. Pretty easy to zone out when he’s stacking all those prepackaged meat buns in the freezer—same with the trashy tabloids his mom keeps reordering. He has to get the box-cutter and open a brand new box of ‘em, and he’s still so zoned out as he stuffs ‘em into the holder by the checkout, he spends a full minute doing that before it hits him that he’s looking at his own face.

Keishin jumps _._ His whole body feels like somebody just dunked it in ice water, and his hands don’t want to listen to him for a second. Finally, though, he lifts one up so he can snatch up the last magazine he put away.

Actually, it’s everything _but_ his face. That’s blurred out. Everything else, though? The piercings, the hair, the… _roots_ , not to mention his hoodie, his pants _…_ It’s this candid shot of him coming out of the hospital, and it’s obviously pretty low quality, and taken from really far away, but it’s him. And the magazine…

It’s this semi-local thing that’s 90 percent ads, ten percent stories about celebrities that somebody pulled out of their ass that are juuuust believable enough to make decent gossip. Except Keishin knows firsthand that _this_ article, this whole _Fertility Laboratory Attempts to Impregnate Male Volunteer_ , is the real deal. For fuck’s sake, the only thing that’s missing is some campy subtitle that says, _Has Science Gone Too Far?_ Keishin tears through the magazine, then backtracks when he flips the pages too quick, finally finding the article somewhere towards the end. It’s barely anything, not even a page long, and even though there is another shot of him, it’s even worse than the other one—and his face is still blurred out. Doesn’t exactly fill Keishin with a whole lot of confidence, though. He flips back to the cover, just staring at it, trying to tell himself that nobody could know it’s him if they can’t see his face.

Yeah, _bullshit._ Keishin knows it’s him, any of the kids on the team would know it’s him, and his _parents_ would recognize him in a heartb— _CRAP!_ His mom. _Shit._ She’ll be down here first thing in the morning, and she always likes to read these articles with her coffee… Keishin gulps, then grabs every single magazine with his face on it, kicks the empty box under the checkout desk, and goes to toss them in the dumpster out back as quietly as he can.

That night, he sleeps like crap warmed over. He keeps telling himself he missed a magazine, that his mom’s gonna find one he forgot to trash first thing tomorrow morning. Or maybe his dad’s gonna go looking through the garbage for some stupid reason and see ‘em in there. When it’s 4 AM, and his shift at the farm rolls around, Keishin’s already awake; soon as he started to forget about the fricken’ magazines and nod off, he started feeling like he was gonna hurl again. He _does,_ sure, but this time he does it in his trash can, and his mom must not have heard him, because she doesn’t come pounding on his door. And when he gets downstairs, everything’s dark, which means both his folks are still in bed.

Nobody at the farm says anything, either, and neither does anybody who comes in during his shift at Sakanoshita. Really gets him thinking: maybe his mom really _is_ the only person on the planet who reads that shit. Honestly, no matter how bad it kept him up the night before, Keishin basically forgets about the damn things by the time he’s back at practice. Feels sorta like—damn it, what do they call it? _Redemption_. Keishin gets back up on that chair so he’s level with Four-Eyes, shows the kid how to block and how to take a damn compliment, doesn’t run off the court to puke, definitely doesn’t end up having to run back in the locker room and smell Ginger’s locker fungus… All in all, it’s a pretty good day! Keishin’s doesn’t feel half bad when he lets the kids go.

“Alright! Gussy up the locker room a little and get out of here.” Now that Keishin’s actually been _in_ there for more than five seconds, he’s seen what a fricken’ crime scene the place is. But he’s actually got something else that’s bugging him. Specs has been quiet all day—not that he’s super _loud_ normally, but he’s kinda… yappier? Point is, the little guy’s got this look on his face that makes Keishin feel like he just got dumped, or somebody keyed his car, or one of his students threw a tomato at him. (Keishin, uhh… Keishin knows from personal experience that kinda thing isn’t always as _funny_ as you think it’s gonna be.) “You good, Specs?”

“Huh?” Takeda jolts, then freezes. Looks like he’s thinking real hard about something, and Keishin doesn’t want to spook him. So he shuts up while the little guy picks at his sleeve, staring at the ground. Then, slowly, the sorta way you’d probably move if you were diffusing a bomb or some crap, Specs reaches into his jacket and pulls out a rolled up bunch of papers. “Actually, Coach? Now that everybody's gone…” He starts to pry it open, and Keishin’s heart drops right out of his ribcage. It’s not papers: it’s a _magazine._

God damn it.

“I wanted to ask you…” Specs holds it up, stretching his arm out so Keishin can see exactly what he’s supposed to be looking at. It’s that tabloid. The same one he spent an hour trying to stuff through the paper shredder, and buried in the dumpster out back, and tried to figure out if he could legally light on fire _._ The one with his face barely blurred out, and the rest of him harder to miss than a fricken’ solar flare. “… about _this.”_


	3. Chapter 3

Alright—good news is, Specs takes him out to eat. The bad news? Keishin’s gotta sit down at the bar with every person in the damn place chugging a beer, and he can’t even have a _sip._ The other bad news? The only reason they’re out here in the first place is so Keishin can tell Specs all about the whole… technical foul he got caught up in. Keishin’s been poking at his yakitori, but, crazy as it is, he doesn’t have that much of an appetite right now. Especially not when he has to watch Specs swing that cold, frothy mug a couple inches from his face. Groaning, he leans his forehead into his fingers and screws his eyes shut while Takeda takes a few gulps, trying to tune it out when the little guy sets his beer down with this gasp like it just brought him back to life.

“So. Uh.” Specs shoots him this happy-go-lucky look like they’re just a couple of buddies out drinking after work. Which, yeah, they sort of are, Keishin guesses. (He and Specs get along alright, and at least one of ‘em has the booze part covered.) “Thanks for joining me, Coach.”

“Well, you know.” Keishin shrugs. “Thanks for paying.” Look—he knows exactly what’s going on, and he knows Specs is like the world’s most polite pit bull when it comes to crap he’s invested in. There’s no way in hell he’s letting this go without grilling him first, so Keishin just has to buckle up and deal with it. Might as well get it over with now, especially if Specs is gonna treat him to some good food. Honestly, anything beats having his thousandth Sakanoshita meat bun halfway through his night shift.

“So.” Yeah—here it comes. Keishin can tell Specs wants to talk about it just as bad as Keishin _doesn’t_. Takeda keeps squirming, and looking away, and his cheeks are kinda pink. (Though that could just be the alcohol.) But Keishin doesn’t cut him off, and after about a minute, Specs finally works up the courage to spit out the second half of that sentence. “Is it… true?”

Keishin takes a bite of his yakitori, chews it, then side-eyes Takeda while he washes it down with a plain glass of coke. (Damn it! He’s drinking _pop_ now. That’s just sad!) “… Is what true?” See, the thing is, Keishin didn’t actually… read that article. He skimmed it, and he thinks he got the gist of what it was trying to say, but he doesn’t know just how much it actually _said._ Could just say he was gonna volunteer to be a guinea pig for hormone therapy, or maybe they were gonna try to do what… actually happened to him, but the article didn’t say when it’d happen, or if it already did. That means, until Specs pins him down, he’s not gonna admit jack shit.

“I mean…” Specs glances around the bar, and Keishin almost wants to slap his forehead when the guy leans in and actually _whispers._ “It’s you on the cover of that magazine, right?”

Keishin’s whole body goes stiff. Crap _._ Feels like he just got caught doing something real bad. He tries to play it off like his whole body isn’t wound tighter than a rubber band about to snap, taking another long, _casual_ gulp of coke while he thinks. Look. He keeps telling himself that he’s not gonna give up on fixing this, but he’s… starting to give up. He’s not sure what the hell’s wrong with him—maybe he doesn’t care as much as he keeps telling himself he does, or maybe he’s just so freakin’ tired of going in circles over and over with nothing actually working _._ Even if he thought he could pull it off—lie to Specs’ face right now, and then get some lunatic to volunteer to take over for him before anyone ever found out—he still can’t pretend that guy in the magazine isn’t him.

Thing is, though, that’s not gonna happen. He’s not pawning this off on anybody else. Keishin knows that by now. And in a few more months (ugh, _God)_ there’s no way Keishin’s gonna be able to hide it from Takeda. From anybody, honestly, but… hey. If anybody had to find that stupid tabloid, Keishin’d rather deal with Specs than either of his folks, or the kids, any day. “… Yyyyyeah.”

“REALLY?”

Keishin knows it’s not what actually happens, but he swears, when Specs yelps like that, it feels like every person in the place turns to look at the little guy. He’s just going by instinct, so he slaps his hand over Takeda’s mouth before he even knows he did it. “ _Shhhh!”_

Specs stares, eyes huge, and Keishin hears him mumble, “Sohrheh” from behind his hand.

Face itching (did he seriously just grab the guy’s mouth like a little kid?), Keishin yanks his arm back and scratches his cheek. “It’s fine, Sp—“

“Sorry!” Specs ducks his head, then blasts off again like he didn’t just cut Keishin off. “It’s just—that’s incredible! This is the first surgery of its kind done on a human… ever _!_ A-And more importantly, it’s… _incredible!”_ Huh. Alright, Keishin can admit it: this is not going where he thought it was gonna go. _“_ Are you nervous? Excited? I’m sure they did a lot of testing before moving on to human trials, but are you sure it’s safe? There could—“

“ _Specs.”_ Keishin grits his teeth, and this time, when he glances around, he’s got a feeling he _isn’t_ imagining all the people who are starting to stare.

“—all sorts of factors you have to take into account, too. They didn’t really cover very much in the article. Are you going to go more public with it?” Specs takes this massive gasp, like he’s remembering something super important. “How far al—uh—how long ago did they perform the operation? Are you going to be okay to keep coach—“

“SPECS.” Keishin raises his voice again, even though he’s making sure he doesn’t _look_ like he wants to throttle the guy. “Reign. _It in.”_

Takeda gulps, and Keishin wonders if the lighting in here’s off, or if the guy’s cheeks are actually getting redder. (Sure, it’s embarrassing when he rambles on and on like that, but if he was the type to get ashamed, Karasuno never would’ve gotten a single practice game.) “Oh. R-Right, you’re… probably right. Article or not, this is pretty personal, after all!”

“No shit _,_ Specs.” Never figured he’d feel this way, but Keishin’s regretting not reading that friggin’ article. If he did, maybe he would’ve had some clue why the hell Specs sounds so thrilled about all of it. “None of this was supposed to go public. I’d like to get my hands on whoever wrote that thing.” Obviously, somebody squealed. The only people who were supposed to have any clue Keishin’s… operation had even happened were the surgeons, the hospital higher ups, and… Okay, yeah, everybody who works for whole freakin’ Hiyokada-whatever labs. Guess it’s not that much of a shocker word got out, but Keishin was pretty sure they tried to get everybody to sign some doctor-patient-confidentiality crap. It was one of the things they did to try and make it up to Keishin for pinning him with this whole mess, along with them paying his medical bills and the whole ‘lab-rat’ salary. At least, that’s what they told him, but Keishin’s guess is that they did it to cover their own asses if something goes south. “This whole thing was a freakin’ mistake.”

Specs’ jaw goes slack. “Coach, don’t say that!”

“N—Whuh?” Oh, right. He thinks Keishin’s being metaphorical there. “No, Specs, _literally.”_ Crap. Keishin didn’t want to take such a deep dive into this right off the bat, but Specs isn’t giving him much of a choice here. “Some other guy was supposed to take the organ, and have the… the kid _._ But then he chickened out, swapped our charts when I went in for my appendix, and…” He heaves this massive sigh, takes another slug of his not-beer, and shakes his head. “Here we are.”

“Oh. But…” Now Specs is looking more alert than he has all night. He turns so he can look Keishin right in the eye, not even facing the bar anymore. “But there has to be _something_ you could do, right? People have… certain rights in a normal preg—“ Specs sees the look on Keishin’s face and stops cold before he says the rest of that word. (Thank God.) “Normal… situation like this. And never mind that! You should have plenty of rights to have this whole thing… reversed _,_ especially if the whole surgery was an accident!”

“Yeah, you’d think so.” Staring down at his yakitori—yeah, no way he’s gonna finish this anymore—Keishin pokes at it a few more times before giving up and shoving it away. “Look, Takeda. I appreciate what you’re trying to do here, but it’s been a few months already. I’ve been through every loophole I could think of. I mean, you’re welcome to take a stab at it, but from what they tell me, they’ve got me over a barrel. It was the hospital that fucked up, but all the… _organ…_ stuff belonged to that other company. Even if I sued the hospital, and got ‘em to take it out of me, or did anything to get in the way of the whole project, I’d be screwed. Best case scenario? They’d throw me in jail. Worst case? I’d owe ‘em a cool million.” Or… maybe it was a billion? Look, Keishin’s not a number guy, and there was no way in hell he’s gonna work out the exact meaning of all those zeroes. At the end of the day, the result’s the same.

“… Wow, Coach. I’m…” Huh. Leave it to Specs to look so friggin’ guilty that Keishin actually feels bad for _him_ in all this. “I’m so sorry.”

“Ehh. Don’t worry about it, Specs.” With a shrug, Keishin takes another swig. If he closes his eyes and tries to remember what beer tastes like while he drinks it, it’s almost decent. “Not that I’m happy about it or anything, but I’m kinda gettin’ used to it.”

“Man, that article sure was misleading.” Keishin’s willing to bet Specs still has the magazine in his bag, but thanks to some higher power that’s looking out for Keishin’s sorry ass, he doesn’t pull it out to go skimming through it again. “It made it sound like you volunteered all on your own!”

“I’d like to get my hands on whoever wrote that piece of shit.” Only good thing is, Keishin knows the company’s gonna be chomping at the bit to find this mole just as bad as he is, so there probably aren’t gonna be any info leaks after this one. Sure—sounds nice and all, but it’s too little, too late.

“Y-Yeah, I bet.” There’s this real long pause—long enough for Keishin to almost zone out and start listening to all the bar noise behind ‘em—before Specs goes back to talking. “So, uh… where do you think you’ll go from here?”

“Just deal with it, I guess.” Shoving his finished coke next to his chicken, Keishin leans on the counter and mimes this big ‘X’ over his stomach. “I mean, I’m not gonna go to the black market to get this crap cut out of me, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Oh!” Specs, to his credit, laughs at that, even though Keishin figured it’d be too morbid for a guy like him. “No! No, I didn’t think you would.”

“Other than that…” Sure, this probably isn’t what the Takeda was thinking when he asked that, but like Keishin said, he’s been holding this stuff in for a while. Kinda nice to talk about it with somebody. _Anybody,_ honestly. “Well, they did say they’d look into some of the other volunteers. See if anybody with a blood relation to it wanted to take the kid. You know, assumin’ this whole thing doesn’t go south.” He’s… not too comfortable thinking about how this could kill him, or… end up bad in some other way, so he hurries up and tacks on, “And if they all say no, I guess I’d keep it.”

… Wait, what?

Did he seriously just say that?! Hell no, he’s not gonna keep it! He’s not ready to be a parent! He didn’t want anything to do with _any_ of this crap, and if a kid’s not old enough to wipe their own ass, Keishin’s not even comfortable being in the same room with ‘em! So why the fuck would he go and say something like that? Never mind thinking it, why’d he say it out loud? In front of _Specs?_

“Really?” Keishin turns to look at the guy, and he sees his face is all flushed and sweaty. But he’s probably not about to cry, since he’s got this massive grin on his face. “I…” He sucks in air, balls his scrawny hands into fists, and then spouts, “I think you’d make a great parent, Coach!”

Keishin makes this dumb choking noise, freezing and just _gawking_ at the little guy. Did he… seriously just say that? Doesn’t he see how Keishin goes off on the knuckleheads at practice? Has he seen… him, period? He’s not seriously thinking of Keishin when he says that, right? Next thing he knows, Keishin can feel the back of his throat itching, so he turns and coughs into his hand, trying to make it less obvious how freakin’ weird he feels. “I, uh…” He swallows, forcing himself to look right back into Takeda’s eyes. (Y’know, just so things don’t get weirder _.)_ “Thanks, Specs.”

* * *

When he made it home after his and Specs’ little outing, he was half-expecting his mom to jump down his throat. If Specs saw the article—if a guy Keishin’s barely even known for a year could recognize him with his whole face blurred out—there’s no way in hell Keishin’s own mom wouldn’t know that him on the cover. But she doesn’t say anything when he gets back, and neither does his dad. Not that he wants to jinx it or anything, but he thinks the coast might be clear. For now, anyway. Still, as soon as he’s sure his folks are busy watching the news, he sneaks up to his room and makes sure the door’s closed tight before calling the hospital. Like he said, he thinks he’s good right now, but there’s only so many mornings in a row he can lose his breakfast before his mom’s gonna drag him right back to the E.R., so he figures he’d better nip this thing in the bud if he can.

They give him some decent advice over the phone, even though he panics and hangs up when he hears his old man coming up the stairs, but hey—they’re the ones who screwed up his goddamn _surgery,_ so he’ll hang up all he wants. Then he looks up a few extra tips on his phone, eats a ton before bed, leaves some mint leaves by his futon, and the next morning, even though he lies awake feeling like he’s gonna hurl for about an hour, he doesn’t. And hey! It might suck ass, but it works, and that’s all Keishin cares about.

But his good mood takes a nosedive when he gets to practice later. Specs is in one corner of the gym with all the meatheads in a half circle around him. Look: Keishin’s not saying it’s _never_ good news when Takeda takes charge and starts going on a rant about something. Sometimes it’s about training camp, or the half-deflated ball they made a shrine for in the locker room for three months because it was ‘good luck’. (And that was before they turned it into a freakin’ voodoo doll.) But other times, he’s telling them they got their funding slashed, or reminding the third years that their days are numbered, or… whatever the hell this is. He’s never seen these kids hold still for this long, and even Shortstack and Ginger look like they’re managing to focus on Specs for more than the usual ten consecutive seconds. Keishin just hangs out in the doorway for a minute, not sure if he wants to bite the bullet and head in, but he’s gotta admit, the curiosity’s driving him nuts.

“The hell are you guys talking… ?” He starts walking over, coming up behind Specs, but then, halfway there, he freezes as he hears Takeda’s voice echoing around the gym.

“… going to be a very, uh—interesting time for him, so I’m sure he’d appreciate all of our understanding, and support!”

No way. No. _Fricken._ Way. He wouldn’t. Right? Sure, Specs can be a little clueless, but he wouldn’t just run off and tell a bunch of teenagers who go apeshit over the ‘towel thunderdome’ (and, yeah, Keishin knows _exactly_ what that is, and he regrets ever finding out) about Keishin’s… screwed up surgery… issue _._ Right? He wouldn’t do that. He just—he _wouldn’t._

“You gotta be kidding me…”

Keishin makes it about a yard away from the whole speech Takeda’s giving when Ginger scrambles to his feet. “Is it true, couch?”

Oh, boy. Keishin’s really trying to give Specs the benefit of the doubt here, but this ain’t looking too good. Guess he’d better play dumb for as long as he wants, just to make _completely_ sure that the little guy didn’t just air his dirty laundry in front of everybody. “Is what true?”

Keishin gets about five seconds. Maybe that. Not even. Five seconds where he’s got any faith left in his faculty advisor, five seconds to tell himself that, hey, maybe he’s just paranoid and jumping to conclusions because Specs finding out got him all shook up. Because it only takes about that long for Shortstack to hop up there with Ginger and add, “That you got knocked up!”

And Keishin, ‘cause he’s a fricken idiot, doesn’t do the smart thing. He doesn’t say some crap like, ‘what the hell have you been telling them?’, or ask if Nishinoya hit his head on the way over. Instead, he goes all pink and barks, “ _Damn it, Specs!”_

“W-Wait, so…” Manbun looks over at him, then back to Specs, then makes a face like his head’s trying to crack in half. Yeah— _feeling’s mutual,_ kid _._ “Is it true?”

“NO! No, it’s—!” Damn it! Keishin can get out of this. Just ‘cause he’s stopped looking for an exit strategy for the whole mess, it doesn’t mean he has to let this bunch of hormonal monkeys in on his personal business. Especially not this crap! If he can’t trust these kids to stuff a sock in it for five seconds when they’re at a rival school, there’s no way in hell they’re gonna be able to keep their mouths shut about their _male_ coach being… in a family way _._ (If you leave ‘em alone for too long, they start talking about some really weird shit, too. One time he overheard Tanaka going off at a rival setter ‘cause he ‘probably didn’t even know what type of body wash his team manager uses by smell alone’.) “I don’t know what the hell he’s talking about. This—“ Keishin makes himself laugh, like it’s just _so_ ridiculous—which, come on! It _should_ be! A pregnant man’s basically a punch line all on its own—but it comes out kinda strained and awkward. “This some kinda joke, Specs?”

He’s just begging Takeda, over and over in his head, and also kind of with his eyes, to take the bait and take back whatever speech he just gave the kids.

“Coach, it’s okay!” Yeah. He doesn’t go for it. “The whole situation’s definitely going to require a few adjustments, but they’d have to learn about it sooner or later.” Keishin’s never been a violent guy, but he swears that ‘talking to a three-year-old’ voice Specs puts on makes him want to _strangle_ the guy. “Look at it this way! Now that they know, they’ll be extra sure not to hit you with any more balls.”

“They’d do that crap anyway!” Has he even _met_ these gremlins? “Specs, I know what you’re going for, but this—“ He stomps over to him, lowering his voice so the team can’t really hear. “This is _my…_ whole… _issue,_ alright?” Heaving this massive sigh, Keishin tries to figure out some smart, to-the-point way he can put all this. The best he can come up with is,“Everything we talked about last night, that was supposed to be private _.”_

“I-I know. And I’m sorry!” Specs laughs awkwardly, then squints over Keishin’s shoulder, like he can’t think right with the whole team staring at them. “But legally, we’d be in kind of a pinch if anything happened to you while coaching. And I sort of figured you didn’t want to quit _,_ so warning the students—and, uh, also getting you to sign a few things when you have a minute…” Keishin hears Takeda gulp, but then the guy stands up a little straighter, sounding a hell of a lot more sure of himself. “That seemed like the best course of action!”

“You coulda asked me first, y’know.” Keishin groans, then, a little too late, he remembers the team’s still just sitting there. The hell’s gotten into them? Since when are they capable of being _quiet?_

“Um.” Sugawara waves his hand, this kind of ‘may I have the floor’ move, and then says, “It’s definitely… _odd_ , but I think it’ll be a lot safer for y…” Keishin must be glaring harder than he thought, ‘cause the kid rephrases pretty quick. “For—For _everybody_ , now that we know.”

“Sorry that company screwed you over like that.” Kageyama hops up too, looking just as indifferent as he always does. “That really sucks.”

“Kind of an understatement, kid.” Ehh, whatever. Maybe Keishin could use a little sympathy. Not like he’s gonna get any from Hiyo-whatever labs for doing this to him in the first place.

“To be honest, I’m a little relieved.” Daichi throws his head back and laughs, but then he seems to figure out how rude that looks, ‘cause he cuts himself off with a wince. “Oh! Uh—not that this happened to you, I’m sure it’s been hard. It’s just,” Shrugging, the kid puts an arm behind his head as he shoots Keishin this awkward grin. “When you landed in the hospital last month, I was worried it was something a lot worse.” Keishin’s gotta admit it; he’s always appreciated how the kid talks to him like they’re on equal footing. Then again, he’s not completely sure Daichi’s’ _not_ some random adult who wandered in and put on a uniform. (Could say the same thing about Manbun, honestly.) “A lot more _normal,_ but—yeah. Glad you’re okay.”

Keishin’s real tempted to say something about how ‘okay’ is putting it generously, but he’s not sure he won’t jinx it if he does. Besides: he might be pissed off that they’re in on it now, but honestly, he’s kinda flattered that at least a few of the brats were worried about him. “Yeah. I’ll live.” He sighs. “… Hopefully.”

That’s when Shortstack pops up like a weasel in an arcade game, hand over his head. “Hey, Coach! Can we see the scar?”

Keishin gawks. “ _What.”_

“What do you mean, ‘what’?” Nishinoya looks around at all the others, and clearly has no idea why they’re giving him the stink eye. “They had to cram it in there somehow, right? I wanna see!”

“No, you can _not_ see the scar.” Keishin pinches the bridge of his nose. Great. So he gets to throw up in the morning, and get treated to a migraine in the afternoon. “Is this what kids are into these days? _Botched surgery?”_

“I just want to know if they had to take all your guts _out_ before they put the new stuff in, or if they just—” Nishinoya pulls this move like he’s kneading bread dough while he says, “mashed everything together and sewed it back up.” 

“Th… They don’t do it like that, right?” Great! Now Ginger’s on the verge of a panic attack. “ _Right?”_

“Oh, they _totally_ do.” Kageyama looms over like an angel of death. “They take your stomach and your intestines and they just _slap ‘em_ on a table. And if even one teensy, tiny bit of dust or dirt gets on ‘em…” He pauses for dramatic effect, then makes a popping motion with his hands. “ _Boom.”_

“Knock it off already!” Keishin barks, at the same time Sugawara goes, “Can you guys just drop it?” Both of ‘em more or less fall on deaf ears.

“Boom? _Boom?_ ” Now Keishin’s starting to think there’s a realistic chance Hinata’s eyes are gonna pop out of his skull, but unlike Kageyama _apparently_ is, he’s not a doctor. “What’s ‘boom’?!”

Kageyama sticks his nose up. “You don’t want to know.”

“Yes, I do! I HAVE TO KNOW!” Ginger grabs Kageyama’s shirt and starts shaking the other kid back and forth—not that Kageyama seems to give a shit. “TELL ME!’

“I _said—!”_ Sugawara gets to his feet, grabs the back of Kageyama’s collar hard enough to make Hinata let go, then stuffs it over his head in some kind of shirt-wedgie maneuver. Keishin’ll give it to Sugawara, he’s resourceful. “DROP IT!”

Keishin nods. “What he said.”

Kageyama stays like that, then mumbles from somewhere inside the shirt, “Fine.”

That lasts about three seconds before Hinata yanks his shirt down and they get into it all over again, and from there, the dam holding everybody else back breaks. Nishonoya starts yelling in Manbun’s ear about this mad scientist movie he saw where the guy sews three people’s— _eugh_ , that’s just _demented!_ And then Sugawara tries to break Ginger and Kageyama up again, but Ginger’s got a real good neck hold on the other kid. Yamaguchi and Yachi are having a couple in-sync meltdowns, looking like they’re freaking each other out to the point where they wanna puke—what is it about kids with ‘Y’ names? Anyway, the rest of the team joins in, so it’s about half meltdown, half damage control, but Keishin’s seen plenty.

“THAT’S _ENOUGH!”_ His eyes land on Tsukkishima’s face, and it hits him that the kid’s been looking at him like a six foot slug ever since he walked in today. Yeah; guess now he knows why. “Everybody, give me twenty laps.” They all stay frozen, staring at him, so Keishin snaps, “NOW!” Just to make sure they get a move on, he starts clapping as the little monsters all scramble to their feet. “I said, let’s _move_ it, people!”

When they actually listen, Keishin lets out a puff of air, relieved. Huh—didn’t think that would work. The weird part is, it only takes a couple minutes for things to start to feel sorta… _normal_ after that. Oh, Keishin knows they’re not normal, and they probably won’t be for a long-ass time, but at least it’s something. He just kinda wishes it could’ve waited a few more months. And sure, Keishin gets why Specs had to spill the beans. More legal crap, and liability for the school, and shit like that, but… Damn it! Forget months! Couldn’t he have waited just a few more days, so Keishin could sorta… You know! Have some kinda safe haven where he didn’t have to think about the weird-ass medical soap his life’s turning into? Nothing keeps his brain occupied better than volleyball.

But speaking of Takeda, Keishin more or less forgets he’s there ‘til he sidles up behind him.

“So,uh… Coach?”

Keishin rolls his eyes, but looks over his shoulder. (Against his better judgement; Specs is already on thin ice.)“Yeah?”

“I… know this is kind of a stupid question.” He does this nervous laugh, messing with his glasses while he grins. “Since we’re both adults and all, but, uh…” Keishin sees this pink spread over Specs’ cheeks. “You’re not mad at me, are you?”

Seriously!? What the hell does he think _?_ Keishin figures that doesn’t deserve an answer, and it sure as hell doesn’t really _need_ one, either. He just grunts.

“Uh… Coach?”

Keishin turns his back on the guy, and then, just so he’ll take the friggin’ hint, he starts walking away.

“Coach?” He can’t see if Specs looks downright heartbroken or anything, but he can’t pretend he doesn’t feel a tiny bit better when he hears the guy give this super-defeated, barely audible, “… Okay.”


	4. Chapter 4

The good thing about going to the hospital less is that Keishin doesn’t have to think about all the bullshit that comes with it as much. The bad part comes in when Keishin realizes just how much time kinda got away from him. It’s already been a month since Specs told the school (right after spilling it to the whole team), and even though Keishin remembers plowing through this mountain of paperwork, he almost forgot it even happened. Like he said, it’s _real_ easy to pretend this crap isn’t going on when he’s outside the hospital. Especially since he stopped puking his guts out every morning. His mom’s not on his back about that anymore, and even if Keishin’s… _definitely_ noticed some crap’s been happening thanks to all the hormones, it’s nothing a baggy track suit can’t hide. So far, his theory’s been that if he looks normal, everybody’s gonna treat him like normal. Maybe some of the kids’ll start thinking that the whole thing was some weird, shitty prank he and Specs set up together. And then, for just a little longer, Keishin can fool himself. All this crap about having a kid, and this crazy shit with the fertility labs? That’s all in his head!

Yeah, he wishes _._ But he can _pretend_ he’s actually buying it, damn it! Right up until the part where he pulls up to the clinic and goes inside. Every time it happens, he gets a few people staring. It’s always full of pregnant women, or just women, period. And sometimes, a few little kids bouncing around on chairs or flinging picture books all over. Most of them probably figured he was somebody’s boyfriend at first, just doing some kind of favor for someone, but each time he gets called back, the staring flares up all over again. Guess the patient confidentiality crap can only protect him from so much; they don’t know _why_ he’s always hanging around the OBGYN wing of the hospital, or what they’re checking him out for, but Keishin’s sure everybody’s got plenty of crazy theories. To be honest, he’s not sure if they’d be better or worse than the truth.

Truth’s not all that fun, either. Lying there on the exam table while the doctor pushes against his gut, feeling him up, really makes him wonder what the hell kind of choices in life lead him to this. At least he can halfway zone out when the guy takes his temp, and his blood pressure, but when he gets to the part where he sticks the stethoscope on Keishin’s chest, Keishin jumps about a foot. When he asks the doctor why the hell that hurt, he gets some… not-too-great news about what his chest (his _pecs)_ could be looking like a few months, so he decides to sorta… stow that away. More or less… shove it in the bottom of the dirty laundry hamper part of his brain. Probably gonna have to bleach his brain for the next part—the one where he has to moon the doctor so the guy can stick him in the ass with a needle—too.

Then the doctor has him stand up so he can get Keishin’s weight before he sends him to go piss in a cup. When he comes back, the guy’s got some kinda torture device in his hands. Seriously—why the hell does a doctor need measuring tape? Keishin was never a hefty kid, but lately, he sorta feels like he understands their pain. He has Keishin turn around, lift his shirt up, and he pulls it tight around his stomach. On some level, Keishin’s been telling himself he doesn’t even know why the guy bothers, and that there’s nothing there to measure. Except, lately, there kinda _is._ Wasn’t there a couple weeks ago, but Keishin’s stomach started looking bloated, and after thinking it was just him eating way too freakin’ to compensate for all the puking, it never went away. And that’s when it really hit him.

Like… Holy _shit._ This is… real. This is really happening, and there’s something in there, and what’s in inside is starting to show up on the outside, too.

“Good, good.” The doctor yanks the tape away, thank God, but then he—

“GUH!” Keishin jerks away, and the guy just laughs like it _wasn’t_ weird he just groped Keishin’s hip out of nowhere.

“Sorry! Didn’t mean to startle you.” He pulls his hand away. (Good call on his part, ‘cause Keishin’s not above elbowing a doctor.) “It seems like your pelvis is already getting wider. I know that’s probably not what you want to hear, but actually, it’s a good thing. It means there’s going to be a lot less strain on that area towards the final trimester.”

“Great.” Keishin barely gets that word out, his teeth are gritted so tight.

“It really is! If you didn’t respond to the hormone treatment at all, there’s a realistic chance you would’ve been bedbound in the last couple of months.” He pats Keishin’s hip again, and Keishin’s gotta hold in the urge to slap his hand a girl in a tight dress smacking some perv at a bar. “Of course, you’ve still got a long way to go! So we’ll just have to wait and see.”

As soon as he’s does sizing Keishin the way you would with a freakishly huge vegetable at a county fair, Keishin plops back down on the exam table while the doctor steps out for about a half hour. Keishin sits and waits, bored out of his mind while he thinks about all the _useful_ crap he could be doing if the guy just knew how to manage his friggin’ schedule. Then, when the doctor finally comes back in the room, this clipboard in his hand, Keishin has the feeling that he’s about to get lectured some more. _Great._

“Okay…” Flipping through his chart, the doctor starts rattling off the results. “Your blood work came back great. Your vitals are good, and the surgical scar is healing well. There’s absolutely no sign of organ rejection, and you haven’t had any problems with the immunosuppressants, correct? Not getting lightheaded, no more fainting episodes?”

Keishin’s just gonna ignore the way his cheeks want to go pink when he thinks about that crap happening a second time. He shakes his head, grumbling, “Nope.”

“Good. I’ll talk it over with the staff at the lab, see if we can’t get you on a slightly lower dosage just to prevent that from happening again. Should be fine; the transplant’s doing well, too.” Freezing, the guy glances over the top of the clipboard and adds, “You’re still not smoking, correct?”

“Right.” And Keishin knows exactly what he’s gonna say next, so he goes ahead and nips that in the bud. “Or drinking.”

“Great.” Guy scribbles a few more things on his clipboard before he finally looks Keishin in the eye. “Not to jinx it, but it really seems like things are going as well as they can be. Do you have any concerns?”

“Uh.” … Does he? He kinda wracks his brain for a minute, but the only thing that pops into his head is barely worth talking about. “I guess I’ve had this kinda… weird… _bubbly_ … feeling. In my stomach.” Yeah, that sounds dumb as hell, and that’s only hitting him now that he’s saying it out loud, so that’s great. “I know; probably just heartburn or something.” It’s not his fault, damn it! Beer always used to help settle his stomach after a long day.

“Huh. Well, it’s sort of early, but not unheard of…” The doctor grabs his chin as he thinks, and then goes right on ahead and gives Keishin a heart attack. “Some people mistake it for indigestion early on, but if this is definitely a new sensation for you, I’d say it could be that you’re feeling some fetal movement.”

“ _Whuh—“_ Keishin sputters like a moron, leaning forward like they’re a couple of kids whispering in class. “… Really?”

“Well—“ The doctor cracks up when he takes a look at Keishin’s face. _Yeesh._ What the hell ever happened to bedside manner, huh? “—yes. It’s going to get more obvious as time goes on. Kicks, the baby turning, that sort of thing. With a woman, the uterus would start out a bit lower and then sort of… expand higher into the abdominal cavity as the fetus grows. But with you, it was implanted more in the front to begin with, so that could be why you’re more sensitive to any movement.”

“… Yeah.” He could’ve shut up after the ‘yes’, and Keishin would’ve been satisfied, but whatever. Not like this guy isn’t getting used to seeing him get all awkward and _pink._

“So, if that’s your only question…” He turns back to his chart and flips the page, staring at it for a second before he raises his eyebrows. “Looks like the only thing you’ve got left is the ultrasound.”

The second he hears that, Keishin’s on edge. Can’t really put his finger on why, though: he’s already had ‘em look inside his guts a bunch of times. Almost once a week. The first few happened ‘cause they wanted to make sure his body wasn’t gonna try and spit the new equipment out. Then, they wanted to make sure that the… Uh. The—The _egg…_ took. And this… kinda fucked up part of him was hoping that maybe the whole situation might take care of itself. That it wasn’t gonna work, that the—the _thing_ inside him wasn’t gonna start growing, and they’d shelve the whole project, and the worst thing Keishin would’ve gotten out of it was the scar, and a few crazy memories. But that hasn’t happened, obviously, and it’s hitting Keishin more and more that there’s… a real _thing_ inside him. Growing. The more times he had to get this crap done, the less he looked. He hasn’t even turned his head towards the screen in at least a month, and he sure as hell isn’t about to start now. Hell, even knowing the type of thing he’d see if he _did_ look messes with his head. When he steps out of the exam room and gets into the chair next to the ultrasound machine, his body’s starting to get that nervy, radio-static feeling, and if he stays still for too long, he thinks his arms or his legs might fall asleep. But if he’s silently losing his shit, this chick sure as hell isn’t getting the memo.

“Hey there, Mr. Ukai! Nice to meet you, I’ll be doing your ultrasound today.” She jams her hand into his and shakes it, then plops down next to him so she can get the weird goop they use for this crap ready.

“Yeah. Uh. Hey.” Keishin’s hand probably feels like a dead fish in her grip, but she sure as hell doesn’t seem to care.

“So, if you’ll just roll up your shirt…” Keishin’s gotta bite back the urge to roll his eyes, but he does it, gritting his teeth when she dumps that ooze on his gut. “Sorry—that might be a little cool.” She rubs it over his stomach, and Keishin starts telling himself it’s like… It’s like a prostate exam or something. Has Keishin had one of those yet? _Hell no,_ he’s not a geezer like his gramps, but he knows it’s gonna happen someday. And everybody’s had some sort of stupid, awkward, pointless medical crap they’ve gone through at some point, even if it was just getting a thermometer up the ass as a baby. And this is the same kinda thing, damn it! It’s humiliating, it’s stupid, and Keishin doesn’t get why he’s doing it, but he’s just gotta make it to the finish line here. If he can do that, it’ll be over quick, and he won’t ever have to think about it again. (Til next time, anyway, but he’s choosing to ignore that part.) “You’re, uh…” The tech laughs as she breaks out the wand thing, flicking a switch as she starts up the machine. “You know, you’re the first _man_ I’ve ever done this on. A prenatal ultrasound, I mean.”

“Yeah, I—I, uh. Kinda figured.” Is she dumb or something? Does she want Keishin to say some crap like, ‘Good for you’? Normally he’s stuck with some crabby old lady who couldn’t care less that he’s the first patient she’s had in here with a dick.

“Right! Sorry, I’m just…” Damn it—if she says something about how she’s ‘ _excited’_ , Keishin’s gonna stand up and just leave. But she doesn’t, thank God. Just puts the probe thing on his gut and starts squashing it around. “I’ll just get started.” She’s silent for thirty beautiful seconds before she starts talking again. “Heartbeat sounds good. Annnd… there we go. Looking great so far. Development is right on the curve. Good size.” She’s quiet for another couple of seconds, but too bad for Keishin, it doesn’t last. “Mr. Ukai, would you like to see? I— _completely_ understand if you’re uncomfortable with the idea, but I personally think you’re doing something pretty amazing. And some first time moth—uh… Some first time _parents_ actually find it more reassuring than they’d think, even if they are nervous.”

Well, she just read him like a freakin’ book. Ehh, _screw it._ If he sees it, and if it ends up haunting his goddamn nightmares for the next five months, that’s not exactly gonna be that different from how his life already is right now. Hell—he might do it just to get her to shut up. So he turns his head and glances real quick at—

“Holy shit.”

That… That, uh. That wasn’t supposed to be out loud. It’s just—what the fuck!? Keishin thought it’d look like some deformed shrimp, not a whole… A whole… _kid._ That’s a fricken _kid!_ He can see the fat little head, the chest, the stubby arms—even the nose, and the _lips._ Suddenly, it’s like he can’t breathe. The feeling’s just like the times he’s been kicked so hard in the chest it knocked the air out of him, and his heart’s pumping so fast he can hear it in his ears, but he’s not—he doesn’t _think_ he’s freaked out. No damn idea what the hell else it might be, but it’s definitely not that. He manages to jerk his head back, but it’s mostly because the tech’s about to look at him again, and, somehow, he’s not sure he can take the nutshot of pure embarrassment that locking eyes with her is gonna be.

“The baby looks great. Developing at a perfectly normal rate, which is honestly better than we could’ve hoped for.” She follows that up with a laugh, like they’re just having lunch instead of giving Dr. Frankenstein a run for his friggin’ money. “You’re doing remarkably well, especially considering you’re—well—a man.”

Why the hell does she say it like it’s some kinda tragedy? “Yeah, sure. Great.” That’s the freakin’ point, isn’t it? Not that Keishin wants to get in any more hot water over it, but he doesn’t exactly want this chick to tell him he’s _great_ at being knocked up. What the hell kinda _guy_ wants to hear that?

“It’s a little too early to tell, but we should know whether it’s a boy or girl after a few more weeks.” She just keeps going, like it’s something Keishin’s supposed to get all excited about. Then, all of a sudden, it seems like she can actually read the room, ‘cause she goes, “Although, I’m not sure if that’s something you’d be interested in. Some people would prefer not to know until the birth.”

Keishin cringes so bad his neck almost disappears into his shoulders when she says that. The whole—the word that starts with ‘b’. “I’m _not…_ ” He almost tells her he’s not keeping the kid, so why the hell would the gender matter? But for whatever reason, when he thinks about saying that out loud, he just loses his nerve.

Either way, he’s starting to feel out of it, like he’s watching from some other room as the lady turns off the machine and wipes the gel off the bump of his stomach. As soon as she’s done, he yanks his shirt down and heads back over to the waiting room the second she says he can go. He waits an extra half hour to get his paperwork done, because doctor’s offices are full of jackasses who don’t give two shits about whether people have anything else to do: seriously, all this _time off_ he’s getting his mom to cover him for back at Sakanoshita is starting to add up. Finally, the old woman behind the counter gives him the okay to leave, plus another script to fill, and Keishin leaves feeling like he’s got homework.

Thanks to them trying to squeeze these appointments in between his work at the farm (which he’s thinking about quitting), running the store, and practice, most of the time, he’s supposed to come here either right in the middle of work, or late. Tonight, it’s a late one. By the time Keishin gets back home, the store’s dark, and he can barely make it up the stairs. But when he gets there, the light’s on. At first he just figures his folks forgot to turn it off—they’re getting up there, y’know—but when he opens the door, he sees his mom hunched over the dining room table. There are all these papers stacked up around her, and even if Keishin’s got no clue what’s going on, he can already tell that it’s something shitty.

“Uh. Mom?” His mom looks up as he starts worming out of his shoes, and for once, Keishin can’t read her expression. “How come you’re still up?”

“Keishin, sit down.” She nudges the chair across from her out with her foot, and Keishin’s shitty feeling gets a lot shittier. That’s the exact tone she used the first time she caught him smoking. (He was seventeen, and sitting on the roof, but somehow, she found him.) “We need to talk.”

“… Sure.” Keishin plops down in the seat, and then feels all the blood rush out of his face when his mom scoots a stack of papers towards him. Only, now he can see it’s not a friggin’ stack of papers. It’s a magazine. The same gossip tabloid he thought he burned a hundred copies of last month.

With this big sigh, his mom looks at him like she just won the world’s suckiest lottery. “Guess I finally know where you keep disappearing to.”

Well, _shit._ To be honest, Keishin completely forgot about those stupid things. Nobody bugged him on the street, nobody stopped him when he was in the middle of restocking shelves to say, ‘Hey, you’re that guy from the magazine!’, and the only people who know are him, Specs, the team, and... some of the staff in the school. (Specs basically nailed him down and _forced him_ to sign a bunch of shit, _more_ legal crap that said he wouldn’t sue if a volleyball clocked him in the gut. That had to be the most awkward visit to the principal’s office in his freakin’ life.) Point is, it’s not like somebody flat-out told her, right? She’s just going off of the magazines. So maybe Keishin can bullshit his way out of this! Hasn’t worked so far, but like hell is he gonna stop trying. “What are you talking about?”

“Are you kidding me?” She picks up one of the magazines and whips it in his face. “You’re the only one in this town who’s been wearing a headband and bleaching his hair for the past five years!”

Keishin winces— _damn it—_ but tries to play it off like he doesn’t care. “Mom, I don’t even know what that says!” He squints at the magazine, trying to figure out how long he has to stare at it to make it look like this is the first time he’s reading the thing. When he’s done, he makes himself laugh and does this half-smile, like this whole thing is funny instead of a total gut-punch. “You seriously think that’s me?”

“Do you _seriously_ think I wouldn’t recognize my own son?” She drops the magazine on the table the way a judge bangs his little hammer thing. “Give it up, Keishin. I called the company, and they told me everything.” His eyes bug out when she says that, but right when he feels like he can call her on it—act like she doesn’t have a case, somehow—she adds, “Next time you want to keep something a secret, don’t list me as your emergency contact.”

“ _Shit.”_ Damn it! If Keishin knew they were gonna just tell her _everything,_ he would’ve made some crap up for that one page out of the hundreds of forms they made him sign. Guess now he knows what that ‘full disclosure’ box underneath all his mom’s info meant. “Look—it wasn’t my idea! You seriously think I’d wanna do this crap?” He grabs the magazine off the table and shakes it back at her. “The shit they wrote in this thing is a total lie! Did fricken _Hiyo-whatever_ labs tell you they did this to me on _accident?”_ Judging by the look on her face, they didn’t, but Keishin could’ve guessed that on his own. “Yeah, and then they _stuck me_ with the whole ‘project’ because they can sue the crap out of me if I back out. Sorry I didn’t want to put you and dad out on the streets after these psychos grab the deed to the store or something.”

“You…” His mom’s eyes go down to the magazine, and then back up to him, and she’s got this look on her face that Keishin almost never sees. This look that says she was actually _wrong_ about something, and now she’s gotta reevaluate. “They didn’t even give you a choice _?”_

“That’s what I’m saying,” Keishin grumbles. “What kind of freak would be okay with this?”

“You’re serious?” Now his mom’s staring at him without even blinking; yeah, Keishin definitely liked her pissed off look a lot more. “They didn’t even _try_ to get them to undo it?”

“Wh—“ Keishin swallows, starting to get all sweaty and itchy _._ It’s just like when he’d try and come up with some excuse for sneaking a stray cat in, or bullshitting his homework when he was a kid—that same exact feeling. Only problem is, Keishin has no idea _why._ “Y-You can’t really _undo_ it, it’s a k…” His voice sorta… cracks, so he clears his throat and hurries to tack on, “kid.”

“Oh, we’re going to call them back.” Did she even hear what he said? He’s thinking ‘no’, but that’s probably a good thing. “We’re going to call them back and we are going to _make them_ answer all of our questions, and we’re going to get this taken care of.” She’s mad—she’s definitely pissed off—but, out of friggin’ nowhere, her eyebrows stop bunching up and she ends up looking upset instead. Shit, what now? “I know… I know you’re an adult, but you’re still only twenty-six, and there are a lot of things you don’t have experience with yet. It’s not your fault, but I think… I think you were overwhelmed, and there were things you didn’t even know to ask them about, and you were probably too scared to think straight.”

“ _Mom!_ I wasn’t…” Seriously?! Keishin wasn’t _scared,_ he was just… losing his shit. That’s completely different! “Cut it out for one second! Everything you’re thinking about doing right now, I’ve already tried it. I swear to God, I’ve tried everything _._ Can you just _trust me_ when I tell you that—“

“I trust you! Of course I trust you.” She jabs her finger at one of the magazines, snapping, “It’s these… _people_ I don’t trust! And you just aren’t capable of dealing with them. But I’m not giving up that easily.”

Keishin can tell she’s about to get started on a whole new rant, and his head’s already hurting just thinking about it. “Look. Mom. I know this is a lot to take in, but can we just—can we drop it for tonight? Or you can take my word for it when I tell you I fought like _hell—“_

“Then you didn’t fight it hard enough!”

Keishin’s eyes pop out again. “What.”

“You’re just… giving up and acting like everything’s fine. It’s not fine!” His mom hunches over and grabs her forehead in her hands. She keeps going back and forth between mad as hell and sadder than he’s seen her in a long time, and Keishin’s honestly not sure what to do with that. “I don’t know what kind of crap this company’s been feeding you, but this is dangerous. I mean, for _God’s sake,_ there’s a reason men don’t have babies! They aren’t built for it.” She swallows loud enough for Keishin to hear it, then looks him in the eye. “What if—What if going through with this gives you some kind of condition you’re dealing with for the rest of your life? Or worse, what if it _kills_ you? Oh, _God.”_ Keishin winces all over again as he watches his mom have a friggin’ revelation. “That time in the hospital—that was because of _this_ , wasn’t it!?”

“Who cares!” Keishin jumps to his feet, shoving the chair out behind him. “That was forever ago, I’m fine now.”

“Keishin, stop acting like any of this is _okay!”_

“I’m NOT!” Shit. His dad’s probably passed out down the hall, and his mom still looks like she could cry, so he lowers his voice after that. “Can you just listen to me for one _goddamn_ second?” Yeah, that was… definitely too loud. His mom got quiet, sure, but she also looks like he just smashed a plate over her head. Great. “If I do anything to get out of this, they’ll sue me—probably _us—_ for everything we’ve got. The company, the organ donor, and everybody who donated to this friggin’ project. I don’t have any case ‘cause it’s the hospital’s fault—I’m just a friggin’ pawn, basically. And even if I sue the hospital, that doesn’t mean they can change anything. Could take forever just to do it, even if I did have a case, and it wouldn’t even be enough break even.” Sniffing, he starts rubbing his thumb against his other fingers, picturing a cigarette between them. “I’m just…” He sits down and pinches at the bridge of his nose with his other hand. “I’m just tired. I’m really, really tired.”

“I know…” With this massive exhale, his mom puts her hand on top of his. “I know you’re tired, Keishin.” She rubs her fingers over the back of his palm, and Keishin manages to do this thing that’s sort of like a smile. “Good Lord. Even if this were _normal,_ if you were a girl—it still wouldn’t be a good idea to get pregnant right now.”

“H-Hey, don’t—“ Damn it—last thing he needs is his mom busting his balls, too. “Don’t say it like I did it to myself.”

It scares the shit out of him when she does it, but his mom actually laughs. “Sorry.”

He does know what she means, though. With the farm work, and Sakanoshita, and coaching, he’s got his hands full. “It’s fine.” It’s not really fine, but—well, he just means he’s not mad at her anymore. Not that he was ever _mad,_ she just… She had her heart in the right place, so he’s just gonna ignore the freakin’ Spanish Inquisition.

After that, his mom just does that finger-tapping thing on the table, getting lost in thought. Keishin sits there, not sure if he can leave yet. Ehh. Better not. Sure enough, after a minute or two, she asks him, “Let’s say… Let’s say we can’t get this resolved, and you get to the end of this… whole thing. What are you planning to do?”

“The end… ?” Oh, shit. She means… the, uh. The kid. “I…” For some reason, his brain’s acting like it’s stalled over, but he manages to spit out the same thing they’ve been telling him for weeks at the hospital. “They’re gonna talk to the donors, and see if they want…” He swallows. “If they want… _it._ And if they don’t, they’re gonna try and find a good adopter.”

His mom’s whole body sags. “Ohh, thank god.” She puts a hand on her chest and does this laugh that’s just pure relief. “If they tried to stick you with a _baby,_ too—! I just—I don’t know what I’d do. I don’t think your father and I could handle another child at our age. I mean, you’re _absolutely_ not ready to be a parent.”

Keishin twitches. Look, it’s not like he gives a shit about having kids. Hell no! It’s just— _damn it,_ if your own mom says you’d totally suck at something, of course you’re gonna get offended! “… Well, I _might_ be.”

His mom shoots him a glare. “That’s not funny, Keishin.”

“I’m not joking!” Look! He’s not saying anything concrete, and definitely not about what’s happening right now, but, y’know! Later, way down the road, if he really wanted to… “It’s not like I want to, but I—y’know, I _could_ take care of a kid, if I had to.” But he doesn’t have to. Like he said, the lab people are gonna take care of everything. So it’s not a problem, and his mom can stop being such a hardass and agree with him so they can drop it already. Which Keishin would definitely appreciate, since, right now, there’s nothing on the friggin’ planet that sounds as good as heading into his room and passing out.

His mom wrinkles her nose. “Hmph.” It’s kinda crazy how fast this went back to seeming like a normal talk with one of his folks, but Keishin’s not gonna complain. “Agree to disagree then.”

“I’m just _saying.”_ And he’s not, like, actually arguing with her. Just making a point. “I’ve been watching the store, all on my own, since I was _fifteen._ I’ve been closing and opening since I was seventeen, and I’ve been coaching for almost a year now. Hell—if anything, I’ve got fifteen freakin’ kids _right now!_ ” And if he can handle more than a dozen hormonal volleyball gargoyles, he can definitely (probably) handle one single baby. Well— _could._ Hypothetically.

“I’m not arguing with you.” His mom does the whole ‘talk to the hand’ shtick, then throws in a couple extra shots anyway, like she always does. “Just—first of all, babysitting for an hour while they play catch is _not_ the same as being a full-time parent. Secondly, _please_ don’t tell me you’re getting any ideas about wanting to—to _raise a baby_ right now.” Keishin jolts like she just stuck him with a pin or something. “Oh, and by the way, now that I’m thinking about it, you really need to quit that coaching job. Or at _least_ take some time off.”

“What?” Keishin blinks stupidly. “Why the hell would I do that?” Keishin swears, if she says _one thing_ about high blood pressure, or stress, or his grandpa—

“Your grandfather—“

“I KNOW, DAMN IT!” Like he said, Keishin doesn’t want to be the kinda guy who yells at his mom, but she’s making that real difficult tonight. Still, he forces himself to take this deep, calming breath before he keeps talking. “… I’m not quitting volleyball. Uh—coaching _._ So you’d better let it go now, ‘cause I’m _not_ caving.”

His mom’s shoulders sag, then she waves her hand. “Fine. I’m not getting into it with you tonight. Stress is the _last thing_ you need.”

Keishin’s dying to say something about how she should’ve thought of that before she waited up for him in the dark like a friggin’ super-villain, but he bites his tongue. He watches her stand up, too tired and out of it to really get what she’s doing until she stumbles over to him and wraps her arms around him, squeezing tight. “Uh.”

“Guess I can’t be too tough on you right now.” She gives him one more squeeze before pulling away. “You’re in a delicate condition right now, huh?” Keishin groans, and his mom’s face crumples. “Oh, _God._ It’s just—It’s _so weird,_ Keishin.”

“I know,” Keishin grumbles.

“It’s just—unthinkable!” From the tone in her voice, Keishin’s not sure if she wants to laugh or cry, and honestly? The feeling’s mutual. “I can’t get my head around the fact that you’ve got a _human baby_ growing inside you. I still—this isn’t a prank? I mean, for God’s sake, I know it’s not a prank, but it just… _feels_ like it should be.”

Keishin groans again, leaning his elbows on the table and smushing his face into his palms. “Yeah, you’re telling _me.”_

She pats his head a couple times, and all Keishin can think is, ‘At least she’s not shaking like she’s gonna have a heart attack’. He’s not sure if she’s gonna tell his dad, or make him do it, but he’s not gonna worry about that until he has to. “I’m going to go lie down. Don’t stay up too late.”

“I won’t.” He might pass out right here, honestly, but there’s no way he’s staying up for more than five minutes, tops.

But when his mom bends down and kisses his cheek, he kinda… starts thinking about how this could’ve ended up a whole lot worse. And, in some weird-ass way, he’s almost glad his mom knows. At least he doesn’t have to run around like a friggin’ moron, trying to hide it from her, anymore. “I mean it. You need your rest.”

Is that what this is gonna be like? Is his mom just gonna go back to treating him like a little kid? … Guess that means she’s gonna put the marriage threats on the back burner at least. (Hell, if he’s lucky, maybe she’ll do that forever! After all, what woman in her right mind is gonna want Keishin after he’s done with all… _this?)_

His mom goes down the hall and Keishin hears the door to his folk’s room close. In some stupid way, he actually _does_ want to stay up, if only ‘cause he hasn’t had a damn minute to himself all day. But he’s dead tired, and sitting alone in the mostly-dark kitchen doesn’t feel like much of a party. So, after a few more seconds, Keishin gets up, wishes for the billionth time today that he could have just _one_ puff of a cigarette, then heads to bed.


End file.
